Far Away Flame
by Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy
Summary: Their story plays in her mind like a kaleidoscope of bittersweet moments in time. Years later, when Bella finally finds the courage to go after what she's always wanted, will it be too late?
1. Prologue-Chapter 1

**Stephenie Meyer owns her characters, b** **ut this is my story—in more ways than one.**

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 **Prologue**

"Hello?" Esme lowered the dial on the kitchen's digital clock radio, disappointed she would miss the end of "Sailing," her favorite new song by Christopher Cross.

"Esme, hi, it's Renee Swan."

"Oh, hey, Renee! How're you doing?"

"I'm well, thanks. Fighting the tide that's against Carter down at campaign headquarters. How 'bout yourself?"

"Good. Y'know, busy. Carlisle is swamped with his new promotion. Soccer started two weeks ago for the boys and then school on Thursday . . . we're already running around like chickens with our heads cut off."

Renee nodded, snorting. "I completely understand. So listen, I'm calling because I have a feeling I'm holding something that belongs to you." She fiddled with the shiny bauble in her palm.

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. Isabella came home today and was very excited to show me the beautiful gift that Edward gave her on the playground during recess."

"Uh oh," Esme responded with a chuckle. "I can't imagine what you're about to lay on me."

"Well, I have a lovely gold ring with a dark stone. Sort of brownish-red, not sure if it's a ruby. And it says eighteen-karat gold inside the band."

Esme closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Lord, this child. Give me a minute, let me go check." After she placed the phone down, the plastic cord instantly recoiled, spinning the lemon yellow handset on the Formica tabletop. She rushed into her bedroom, opened her jewelry box and took a quick inventory.

 _Yup. Gone._

Back in the kitchen, she picked up the phone again. "Uh huh. That would be my garnet ring. Carlisle gave it to me at his senior formal in college."

Renee snickered. "Oh, my word. Well, thankfully our adorable kiddos won't have to be brought up on larceny charges. But, your sweet boy . . . I can't stand it."

"He's a hoot. At least he gave her a good one and not the fake pearls from my costume jewelry box. " Esme blew her bangs away from her eyes and fell into the sofa. "So they're engaged, I take it? We should celebrate."

"Isabella said married, but you know kids these days. They move a lot faster than we did."

"True. At least a wedding for them won't kill our pockets. I'd imagine pizza from Riviera and lemonade at the Beach Three pavilion, followed by a dip in the lake would be the best reception they could imagine."

Both ladies cackled through the teasing, finding out they were already in-laws and only in their late twenties.

"Well, I'll have Charlie run it by your house when he leaves for work tonight. I hope Edward won't be too heartbroken that Isabella has to return it. She was moping when I took it away from her to call you."

"Aww. You tell Bella that Edward will have something even more special for her tomorrow. After all, we wouldn't want to stand in the way of true love at six years old."

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 **A/N: Lucky for me, my fiery team from the Cabana is never far away from me . . . thank you, as always, to Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo.**

 **This story is autobiographical at times, biographical at others, and fictionalized plenty.**

 **I'll post another chapter later today and then every Friday until completion. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Thanks for reading!**

 **xo, Jen**


	2. Chapter 2

**(-)(-)(-)Far Away Flame(-)(-)(-)**

 **BPOV**

 _May 1984_

"Bella, c'mere. We need your help."

I turn toward the group of girls and sink to my knees in the sand next to Tanya. It's not comfy beach sand. It's dirty, coarse sand with shards of pine cones and brittle needles. I don't like it, but I don't have much choice; that's what Medford Lakes in southern New Jersey is made of, about a billion pine trees and sand. Nobody has grassy yards, and if they do, we know it's the fake kind. To a kid, though, it doesn't matter; just add some water to that sand, and we can make the best mud pies around.

Everyone in the circle is quiet, and I wonder what their deal is. "What's up?"

"You have to go talk to Edward for us," Kate demands. "Jessie's birthday party is tomorrow, and I wanna skate with Edward and be his girlfriend, but so does Tanya." Kate barks at me while she picks the pinchy hitch-hikers from her shoestrings. I wince and rub at my index finger, remembering I still haven't told Mom about the pricker that stuck me at yesterday's class picnic. I hope it just goes away. I hate when Mom has to get the pin and tweezers. Shuddering, I focus back on Kate, who's still being bossy. "So, go ask him who he wants the most."

I grumble to myself but turn to Tanya, who has this pitiful look in her eye. "Is that what you want, Tan?"

She nods, quiet as a mouse, while Kate rolls her bright blue eyes, pointing toward the far field. "Hurry, Bella. You're the only one who can talk to him, and recess is almost over."

I stand up and shrug, dusting the sand from my forever-bruised knees. My old and new scars and all the black and blue marks along my shins make me cringe. I've been riding my bike since I was four years old, but I always manage to find a patch of dirt at the turn in the road or slippery leaves that send me over onto my side, bike wheels and peddles still spinning three feet away from me. Grandpa calls me _Bella furiosa_ , teasing me, saying it just means I'm a walking calamity. I never argue because it fits. Last year, my second-grade teacher told me he was going to make the class chip in to buy me a sweatshirt with a stoplight on it, its red light flashing. Everybody knows I'm always falling. Maybe I should just stay down.

I approach Edward, sitting alone in the baseball outfield of Nokomis Elementary School. Some of the other third-grade boys have a game of kickball going, but he's far enough away that I guess he's not worried about getting nabbed in the head with a red, rubber ball. If it were me, I just know I'd end up in Mrs. Cope's office with a bloody nose.

"Hey." I collapse in front of him in the grass. He picks at the clovers around us. I wonder if he's looking for a four-leafed clover. I always look for them. Found one two different times.

"Hi."

"You okay?" I sigh when he doesn't immediately answer. "You been sitting here the whole time?"

"Yeah." He plucks the furry, white flower off a stem and chucks it over his shoulder. "Kate and Tanya bugged me all through lunch, so I didn't want to see them during recess, too."

"Well, Kate made me come over here."

He nods. "I saw her."

"They both wanna skate with you tomorrow at Jessica's birthday party. Oh, and be your girlfriend. So, she wants to know who you're gonna choose. They both do."

He tosses another clump of grass and clovers while I wait for him to answer. The playground whistle blows, and kids start scurrying past us to line up where their teachers gather near the tree line. I stand, bouncing a little on my feet. Edward's taking too long, and I don't want to have to stay after school to clap erasers for Mr. Bertie as a punishment for being late.

"So, who is it? You have to choose someone." I don't know why he _has_ to choose someone. But Kate made it sound like life or death, so I didn't argue. Edward has been my friend forever; he always talks to me; I'm not embarrassed to speak to him like they are. "Who's it gonna be? Kate or Tanya?"

He squints up at me, the bright sun trying to bake us right there on the playground. "You."

I freeze like a statue, confused and kind of excited, while my belly does a flip-flop on the inside. I haven't been his girlfriend since the beginning of first grade when he gave me his mom's ring, and that only lasted a few weeks. After that, the new girl moved into town, and I guess they became boyfriend and girlfriend. Lauren told me about it at the bicycle racks after dismissal the day Angela showed up. I just shrugged and rode home from school, feeling a little sad, but not too much. At six years old, he was my boyfriend in words, but it's not like we went out on dates. Not like now, when we can hold hands around the skating rink. Or purposely sit next to each other at the lunch table.

We're almost fourth-graders. Things are _way_ more serious now.

"They're gonna be mad," I groan. I hate when girls get mad. That's when secrets start, and I hate when they tell secrets, especially mean ones that aren't true.

He stands up next to me and grabs my hand. His smile makes my belly flip again as the second whistle blows. "Don't care."

I shrug, smiling back at him and let him lead us toward the lines.

"You know that new song, "Oh Sherrie" that's on the radio?" he asks.

"Yeah. I like that one."

"Me too," he agrees with a nod. "Whenever I hear it, I change the words to 'Oh Bella'."

Make that three belly flips in three minutes. Oh, well. I guess secrets from mad girls aren't _that_ bad.

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 _September 1984_

"C'mere. You need to try."

I shake my head. "Edward. I fall down all the time when I ride my bike. I'm not gonna be a good skateboarder." I push my foot until my kickstand is up straight and step back from the new ten-speed I got for my birthday last week.

He's waving his hand at me to grab it as we walk back up to the top of the hill.

"It's easy, Bells!" my little brother calls out, whizzing down the road past us in the opposite direction. "Just stay standing in the middle of the board, like this!"

When Jasper gets to the bottom of the hill on Tontonava Trail, he starts to wobble and smashes into a leaf pile on the Bakers' front lawn.

Edward mumbles, jerking his head toward my brother, who's now picking leaves out of his scruffy, blonde hair. "Well, no. Don't do it like _that_." He cups his hands around his mouth. "You okay, Jazz?"

"Are you all right?" I call down the street, taking steps toward him.

Jasper shouts back with a thumbs up. "I'm good!"

I point my thumb over my shoulder. "See what I mean? The clumsiness runs in our family." I try to convince him, but I don't think it's working. Edward ignores me and positions the two skateboards side by side and then sits down on one of them, stretching his legs across the other board but keeping one foot on the ground.

"Okay, come sit down on this one right here in between my legs and put your legs over mine," he explains. "We'll hold hands as we roll down the hill and lean forward and backward to change the direction. Trust me, it'll work. I tried it with Embry a few days ago."

"Your brother is smaller than I am, y'know," I grumble, getting into the cramped position. Once I'm seated on the hard board, I stretch my long legs over his thighs, my feet dangling behind him. "Aren't my feet and ankles going to get twisted? I have to be able to dance at ballet."

Edward huffs at me. "Quit complaining. This is gonna be fun. You can be a dancer, but I also wanna teach you to be a skateboarder."

"But we're sitting."

He shrugs with a silly smile. "It's more fun to do it with you this way. Ready?"

"No."

"Too bad." He holds both of my hands and picks his foot up from the ground. "Here we go!"

Suddenly, we're rolling and I'm squealing and Edward's cheering and Jasper is clapping for us. Edward tilts forward like he's about to kiss me and I lean back, scared and a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, good!" he encourages, and I realize we're sailing back down the middle of the road instead of drifting to the side like we were a second ago. "Head for the patch of sand, right there." He points our clasped hands and I nod, knowing it'll stop us instantly and hopefully, without getting hurt.

Once we hit the sand, the boards stop but our bodies keep going and we both fall over onto our sides, giggling.

"We have to do that again," I laugh, dusting my shoulders off as I sit up.

"See? Wasn't that fun?" He stands and brushes the sand off his shorts. "Here."

I take the hand he's reaching out for me, and he helps me up. "Yeah. I should've trusted you. That was fun. Thanks for not letting me get hurt."

He bends down to pick up his board while I grab the one I was sitting on. "You're my girlfriend _and_ my friend," he says, grinning, "I don't ever want you to get hurt."

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 **A/N: So glad so many of you have hopped on board. Would love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading and reviewing. See you Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	3. Chapter 3

**(-)(-)(-) Far Away Flame (-)(-)(-)**

 _January 1986_

I stand outside Mrs. Waterson's classroom, waiting for her to open the door. There are only a couple of other fifth-graders there who stayed for lunch. The majority of kids are able to go home to eat every day because they live fairly close to school. Our small town isn't big enough to need buses, so the students ride bikes to school from kindergarten through eighth grade. Doesn't matter the weather: freezing cold snow, or torrential rain, unless you have a parent who takes pity on you and gives you a ride, you hop on your bike and get there as fast as you can.

I raced home like Evil Knievel yesterday for lunch, and the cold weather had me feeling like a popsicle for the rest of the afternoon, so today I stayed to eat in the all-purpose room and read a book at indoor recess.

Close to 12:30, the outside door flies open, and Edward comes bounding in, eyes wide while he scans the hallway. He rushes up to me with his arms outstretched.

"It blew up! I was watching, and it just blew up in the sky with smoke and fire everywhere!"

"What blew up?" I ask, alarmed.

"The Challenger! I watched it on T.V.! It took off right when I got home for lunch and like . . . a minute later, it blew up!"

I get a sick feeling in my belly. I know that means people must've died. There was a teacher on that space shuttle mission, too. The first teacher going into outer space, I think. She's been on the news a lot. Suddenly, my mind swirls. Thinking about teachers dying makes me sad because my mom is a teacher, and I don't ever want to lose her.

Edward leans against the wall, staring at me. "Bella, are you okay?"

I hear him speaking and focus back on him, nodding my head. "Yeah. Just got sad to hear about those astronauts."

"Heather's supposed to go to space camp this year." His voice gets quiet and whisper-like. "I don't want her to go if she could die."

My heart hurts for lots of reasons in this moment. Heather has been his girlfriend since the beginning of the school year and they're still together. We stopped being boyfriend and girlfriend last summer when he was going away to soccer camp. He was only going away for a week, but it didn't bother me because I knew we'd still be friends. I told him it was okay, and I'd see him when he got back.

Every time he's asked me to be his girlfriend over the years, I've said yes. Sometimes someone new would come along a month or two later that he thought he might like. We'd shrug our shoulders, hug, and that was that . . . no more boyfriend. My feelings weren't ever really hurt because we always stayed friends and we still are now. But if Edward is still with Heather and worrying about her summer plans, it makes me and our shorter relationships feel a little like chopped liver. What happened to the rule about breaking up with somebody when one of you has to go away?

Just then, the outside door opens again, and Heather and some other friends walk through the door. Edward steps away from me without looking back.

I don't think he did it on purpose; in fact, I know he didn't. He isn't the kind of person who sets out to hurt anyone, least of all me . . . but his girlfriend and some of his best buddies have arrived.

I guess I'll always be the friend he can fall back on. I don't mind.

It seems really dumb for me to be concerned with this when we just heard that people died . . . but, my heart still hurts. I can't help it. Edward is a big part of my life. He just is.

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 _July 1987_

I complained to Mom and Dad about coming to the week-long environmental day camp this summer. It's usually a bunch of fifteen or twenty nerds who have more fun doing extra school work. Studying leaves and cedar lake-water samples only holds a twelve-year-old girl's attention for so long. Today, though, I take back all of my whining. It seems the nerds stayed home and sent the popular boys in their place, and I can't contain my excitement.

A little while ago, Mr. Teagly and Mr. Farnsworth broke us all up into small groups, and our first assignment was to go into the woods and build a shelter. Somehow, I hit the jackpot and got placed in a group with Sam, Jake, Edward, and Paul. How the four cutest guys in our grade ended up in the same group and then _my_ name was thrown into the mix, I'll never know.

I try my hardest to stop blushing and concentrate on not stuttering like a doofus because of my happiness.

"Bella, can you get things set up on the inside while the guys and I work on building the outside?" Paul, who's usually a jerk, is being super nice. I don't know whether to squeal in delight or worry he's going to make jokes about me behind my back.

The boys grab large branches and logs, setting up our little grid square, where we have to build the safest and most creative shelter out of the materials we find in the woods. I collect sassafras leaves for the roof, pick out some large rocks and pieces of bark I can use as plates and bowls, and tear off a branch with lots of leaves to use as my broom. I sweep out the living area as best I can, gathering a ton of pine needles to make a bed.

"Bella, this looks awesome. Is this the kitchen?" My stomach goes crazy with butterflies while Jake actually hugs me. Being in the spotlight and getting compliments by some of the cutest boys in our grade is not part of my daily routine.

Sam and Edward walk through next, giving me high-fives, excited to see how I've organized our little house in the woods.

"We should keep this place safe, you know?" Sam says. "Let's get some huge logs and stuff to block any deer from coming through and trampling it. We can come back and check it out next week."

We? We including me? Am I suddenly one of the cool kids? Charlotte's never gonna believe this. Serves her right for choosing a week in Disney World over a week in the tick-infested Pine Barrens to study nature.

I swear I'm red in the face the whole two days we spend gathering materials and building our shelters. Of course, it also might be the hard labor in almost ninety-degree weather.

"This bed looks really comfy. Is it yours?" Edward asks, pointing.

I shrug. "I mean, it's for any of us, I guess. We don't have enough room for me to make five beds, so I just built this one as an example for the teachers to grade us on."

He marches over toward me, grabs my hand and pulls us down onto the organized, twin-size pile. "Well, you did a great job, but if you have enough room, I get to be the one to share the bed with you . . . those guys can sleep on the floor." He smiles and I know he means it. "Is that okay?"

Edward wants to share a bed with me? Me share a bed with a boy? Mom and Dad share a bed. The people on _Dallas_ and _Dynasty_ share beds with different people all the time. I know Heather won't care because they broke up a while ago, and he's been single ever since, but in almost-sixth grade? I only have girl sleepovers these days, but if I can be close to him again, I'll let him sleep on my pine needle bed whenever he wants.

I'll even give him the scratchy, piney pillow.

"Wanna play flashlight tag tonight?" he asks, out of the blue while the other guys prop up a pretty big branch to block the front entrance to our shelter. "We'll get our brothers, too. And my cousins are coming for a sleepover; you'll like them. We can all play together."

My blush is definitely back, and the hot, humid day isn't the reason anymore. "Yeah. Sounds like fun."

He nods. "Cool. I'll ring your doorbell after it gets dark."

.

.

.

"Where are we going?" I whisper, following behind Edward, who just turned off his flashlight.

"No-man's land. They'll never look for us there."

My eyes bug out. "Yeah, because we said only my block and yours for hiding."

"This _is_ my block," he says, putting his hand out for me while I step from the pavement onto the sand, and we start our careful journey down the steep hill to Sioux Lake.

Once we get to the bottom bank, he crouches down to feel the sand. "It's not wet; let's sit. We might be here a while."

"READY OR NOT, HERE WE COME!"

We giggle, hearing our little brothers scream from Edward's yard down the road.

"So, are you excited for soccer camp this year?"

He nods, grabbing a rock and throwing it into the dark water. "Yeah, me and Embry go for two weeks this year."

"Wow. That's longer than last year, right?"

"Mhmm. My coach on the Strikers called Mom and Dad to say he's running a two-week camp this year in Pennsylvania, and he told them that my brother and I should come out."

"Won't you be sad to be away from your parents for all that time?"

I see the outline of his shoulders shrug. "I'll be with Embry, so it shouldn't be too bad. Plus some of my friends will go." He pauses. "I think I'll be sadder to be away from you."

"Me?" I don't know what to say, so that's all I come up with.

"Yeah. Does that surprise you?"

"A little." I start packing a hill of sand, still embarrassed, hearing Edward's feelings. "I mean, we're not boyfriend-girlfriend anymore."

"Yeah, but I still miss you when you're not around." He throws a bigger rock this time, and it lands in the lake with a _kerplunk._ "When we were little, we played together all the time. But now you're always busy with your dancing and piano lessons, and I have soccer and basketball. Plus, it's not cool for girls and guys to play together anymore like we did when we were younger, right? It kinda stinks that we don't hang out like we used to."

His explanation makes sense. "Yeah. You're right. I only ever spend time with Charlotte and Maggie. I know you always play with Sam and Jake and the other guys in soccer and stuff."

"Yup." After he throws a third rock, he puts his finger to his lips when his brother's voice gets closer.

"I'll go back to your yard, Jazz! Stay with Alec and keep looking!"

Edward and I snicker quietly before he stands. "C'mon. Let's find somewhere else to hide so they at least have a fighting chance," he suggests.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I whisper as we start walking back up the sandy hill to the road.

"Sure."

"Why doesn't your cousin have any hair on his head, or even eyebrows?"

He swings his face toward me. "He has some kind of disease that makes his hair fall out. He's had it since he was a little kid." His voice sounds bothered. "He's not a freak or anything."

My cheeks heat up when I think Edward is upset with me. "Oh, no. I don't think that at all." I step over the ledge of the road, and Edward and I start heading for his neighbor's yard. "I was just wondering about it. When Embry called him 'baldy' earlier tonight, it got me sad, and I wanted to hug Alec. I mean, I figured your brother was teasing him, but still . . ."

Edward stops us under the streetlight and turns to look at me right in the eyes. I know the other kids will spot us if they walk out front, but I think they're mostly over on my block and in his backyard. "See? That right there." He points at my chest. "That's why I'll always miss you, and I'll always want to be your friend. You don't even know my cousin, but you wanted to hug him 'cause you felt bad." Edward shakes his head. "Your heart is so big. I bet the whole world couldn't fill it up."

I'm trying not to smile, but that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me.

"Nobody has a better heart than you, Bella."

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 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Love hearing your thoughts, hopes, and predictions. Have a great weekend and see you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	4. Chapter 4

**(-)(-)(-)Far Away Flame(-)(-)(-)**

 _March 1988_

My stomach sinks when I see Edward on his bike, turning the corner and following our car into the driveway.

"Guess Edward wants to talk to you," Mom says, shutting off the engine. "Just remember you only have about ten more minutes till you have to start getting ready. Graham's coming to pick you up at five."

"'Kay," I sigh, watching him stop his bike next to my door. I pull the latch handle and step out of the car, attempting a smile for my friend. My mom gets inside our house before I find my words.

"Hey."

"Hey." His voice sounds sad as he stares at me for a few seconds. I follow his eyes. They seem to glance down toward my painted fingernails and then up to my newly-styled hairdo. "Your hair's different."

I touch the side of my head. "Yeah. Mom thought it would look pretty if I got it done in a French braid with these little flowers. They're called Baby's Breath."

He nods. "Looks nice."

"Thanks." I swallow my nerves, knowing I owe him an apology. "Listen, I'm really sorry that I can't come to the party tonight."

Edward bites his lip, turning his head to the street. "It's a bummer you won't be there for our usual St. Paddy's Day traditions." He smiles, chuckling. "Nobody else likes to dip French fries in their Shamrock Shake with me. That was something just you and me did together every year."

The disappointment I'm feeling at letting him down makes my head hurt. "Yeah, this was such a last minute thing. Graham only asked me to the dance on Wednesday."

Edward starts picking at the inspection sticker on his handlebar. "Why did he wait so long to ask?"

"His first date was Nancy Martin. But her grandma died a few days ago, and she had to go out of town and canceled on him, so he asked me because he didn't want to go alone." I lean back against the car, my stomach feeling more and more queasy.

"Do you like him?"

"Graham?" I shrug. "I—I guess. He's a nice guy. His dad works with my dad down at the station, so we've been to parties together over the years. We've hung out before."

"I bet he likes you." Edward's voice is barely a whisper. I don't know why it's making me get a little angry.

I clear my throat, stressing, "We're just friends. I don't have a boyfriend."

"Maybe you will soon."

Suddenly, my heart starts racing. Does Edward want to be my boyfriend again? Is he talking about us? Or is he talking about Graham and me? My confusion makes me more irritated.

"We're just dancing, Edward. Like all of us do every time we go to an 87 Club dance at Vaughn Hall. You dance all the time with your girlfriends." That sounds kind of jealous. I don't care, though. He rarely dances with me.

"I don't have any girlfriends," he answers quickly, his foot tapping at a pinecone on the driveway. "Just friends who are girls."

"So, it's the same thing for me. A friend who happens to be a boy." I try to keep my voice from getting squeaky. "Instead of it being seventh and eighth graders at the 87 Club dance, it'll just be eighth graders at their graduation dance and one seventh grade girl going as a last minute replacement." I point to myself like he doesn't know already.

"Yeah, but he's taking you out to dinner, too." He takes a step back. He even shakes his head, starting to act like he doesn't care. "Just seems like a date to me."

I sigh, swatting at the bug that's flying around my head. I don't know why this moment had to get awkward with Edward. He's never acted jealous about me hanging out with other boys, so I don't understand why he's doing it now.

It seems weird. He seems weird. I don't like it.

"Are you okay?" I say, stepping toward him.

"Yeah. Fine, why?"

"I don't know. You seem bothered, and I don't know if I did anything wrong. I mean, I'm sorry I can't come to your parents' annual St. Patrick's Day Party. I know it's been a tradition for us, but I didn't think you'd mind that much."

"Why wouldn't I mind?"

I throw my hands up in the air. "I don't know, Edward. I know you and I are friends, but we don't see each other too much when we're not at school. We're friends, but we're not _super close_ friends like we were when we were little. Plus, there'll be a whole group of other kids to hang out with tonight at the party. The same families get invited every year."

"Bella, five minutes!" My mom calls out to me through the living room window. I look back at Edward who's kicking a rock against the tire of his BMX.

"Anyway, I just didn't think it was that important to you," I finish my sad thought.

"I mean, it's not _important_ to me. It's just something we've done for lots of years, I guess. When things change, it isn't always a good feeling." He stresses the word important like he's trying to convince us both. I don't know if I should believe him. Boys are so confusing, but I understand what he means about change. It can be scary and sad. Especially when it's not a good change you're ready for.

I nod, crossing my arms. "I know. And I'm sorry I got a little crabby. I just don't like when my feelings get hurt, and I especially don't like if I hurt somebody's feelings. And it feels like I did that to you." I pause, wishing this night would just be over already. "I'm sorry."

He shrugs, a little smile on his face that makes me feel only a tiny bit better. "It's no big deal." He swings his leg over his bike seat and leans back. "Hope you have fun tonight."

I can't tell if he's really okay or just saying he's okay.

"I'll try, thanks." I smile as he starts to peddle away but add, "Enjoy that Shamrock Shake!"

He laughs, looking over his shoulder at me and just waves goodbye.

.

.

.

After Graham and his mom drop me off, I wander into an empty house but find a note on the kitchen counter from my parents.

 _Bells, If you're reading this, the three of us are still at the Cullens' party. Jasper is going to have a sleepover here with Embry. Feel free to get changed and come over if you're up to it. We'll be home pretty late. Love, Mom, Dad & Jazz_

I don't know if I can deal with seeing Edward right now. He seemed so bothered earlier. I think I need to let a few days pass before I talk to him again.

After taking a shower and getting into my pajamas, I open the sliding doors and hear the Irish music, laughter and silliness coming from the deck of Cullens' house around the block. I sit on the back stoop, smiling while the party guests sing, "Ring-ding diddle iddle i-de-o," at the top of their lungs.

The unexpected sound of rustling bushes and leaves crunching under somebody's feet makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Quietly, I get up and step backward into the house.

"Bella?"

I nearly scream when I hear my name, but as Edward's face comes into the light, I settle my racing heart. "You scared the living daylights outta me!"

He has a hint of a smile, but I can tell he feels bad. "Sorry. I just came over to give you something." I step back down as he pulls a white bag from behind him and sets it on the patio table. Digging inside, he takes out two cups from McDonald's and a tin foil package that he unwraps, which turns out to be a large order of fries. "Surprise!"

I grin, my eyes getting bigger, assuming that a special minty shake might be in the cups. When I grab a fry, I'm shocked to find them piping hot. "How did you— these are fresh! Didn't your mom take you before the party like she's always done for us?"

He shakes his head, grabbing our drinks, then sits down on the stoop and stretches his long legs out in front of him. "Since you weren't coming, she figured I didn't want to bother." He taps the straw on the end until it pokes through the wrapper. "And she was right . . . but when I saw you come home, I rode my bike down to get them for us." Handing me my prepared shake, he taps our cups together. "Sláinte!"

"Sláinte."

"Oh, and check this out." He tugs a plastic baggie from his back pocket. "Found this for you after school today. Figured it was cool because of the holiday." Edward pulls one of the patio chairs toward us and sets up the fries on the seat.

Studying the green grass inside the bag, I realize what I'm staring at. Like I keep hearing the funniest jokes over and over, I find myself smiling stupidly, and then I shake my head. This thoughtful boy did all of this . . . for me . . . for us.

"Thanks for my four-leafed clover."

He smiles around his straw, enjoying his ice cold treat.

"I can't believe you rode your bike down to McDonald's. On Stokes Road at this hour? Your parents are gonna kill you."

He shrugs and dips two long fries into his shake before gobbling them up. "I stayed in the parking lots and only rode on the street when I absolutely had to. And our parents and the rest of the guests are enjoying their Black and Tans way too much to notice that I took off," he says, chuckling and reaching for another fry.

"How did you know when I got home from the school dance?"

"I knew the dance was supposed to end at ten, so I rode my bike past your house around quarter after and saw your bedroom light on." He leans back against the sliding door. "I hit the road when I knew you were there and came straight here. I knocked on the front door, but when you didn't answer, I figured I'd come around back 'cause I could see the family room light on."

"And here I am," I respond before taking another drink. "And look at this,"—I point to the foil—"you even kept our fries hot. Well done, boy scout."

He laughs. "I had to think of something. Who wants to eat stale fries?"

We enjoy our late night snack for a few more minutes, shaking our heads at the crazy shouting and singing coming from his property. "It's a good thing Daddy's a cop in this town. Our families would get in trouble every year for disturbing the peace," I add.

Laughing, we reach for the fries and dip them into our shakes again and again. I had fun at the dance with Graham. He's a nice guy . . . but nobody will _ever_ be my friend, Edward.

"I'm really sorry I missed the party tonight, but this has been an awesome treat."

Nodding, he taps my cup once more. "Who said you missed it? I think we're having a great party right now." He stretches his arm out. "Okay . . . time for the annual Shamrock Shake brain freeze race."

I giggle and hold my cup up to his. "Oh, jeez, okay . . . one, two, three . . . GO!"

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 _May 1989_

I take my seat in the row closest to the windows, second from the front. Pre-Algebra is a smaller class my parents placed me in halfway through the school year. Only seven other kids are assigned here. Apparently, we're more advanced than the other eighth graders, and if we perform well this year, we might get into the level one, accelerated algebra class during freshman year up at the high school.

I love Pre-Algebra for no other reason than I'm one of only two girls in the class, along with Emily Bradford. She happens to be one of the most popular girls in our grade on top of being incredibly smart. She's close friends with at least a dozen other super-popular girls, as well as the dozen cute and popular boys they hang out with. Edward is one of them.

My friendship with him has dwindled some more since last year. There are only sixty-five kids in our grade, and as we continue to grow up, he's gotten more enveloped by that crowd, and I stuck with the crowd of friends I trusted. Plus, his parents bought a different house across town last summer, so now we don't even get the opportunity to ride our bikes to school together. He's always nice to me when we see each other. He doesn't seem to care if the popular kids don't hang out with me, he never ignores me. And when we do manage to find ourselves alone together—a rarity, nowadays— we get along just like old times, but that's about the extent of our friendship. It makes me a little sad, mostly because in the last couple of years I realized just how _gorgeous_ he is, but so did the rest of _those_ girls. And sometimes when "Oh Sherrie" comes on the radio, I quickly turn to a new station. I wonder if he still thinks about me, or even sings about me, when he hears it, too. The thought gives me a knot in my stomach.

Time marches on, I guess, and we've just marched in different directions.

Last night's dream has me in a tailspin, though. My head's been in the clouds ever since I woke up to my clock radio blaring Whitney, who wondered where broken hearts went. I haven't had a dream about Edward in a while plus, I've had my sapphire ring ever since my grandparents gave it to me as a communion gift in second grade. Last night, though, Edward gave it to me as an engagement ring. We must've been older, but that was the ring he used, not kidding.

I haven't been able to stop staring at it all day.

Mr. Jackson steps into the room, calling the class to order just as Edward slinks in behind him and plops into the desk right in front of mine. He usually pals around with his buddies in the back of the classroom, so to say my heart just skipped a beat is an understatement. Immediately turning around, he asks for my opinion on the bonus question we had for our homework the night before.

"Umm, I just FOILed (12+4x) and (x+4) and got this as the final equation." I point to the numbers and his eyes widen as he smiles, looking up at me.

"Ohh, I get it now!" He turns back to his desktop and scribbles the answer on his worksheet. Just as Mr. Jackson starts calling roll, Edward swings his body back around to face me. "Thank you for that answer, my little chickadee." He pats my head with the most genuine smile and then glances at my hand, tapping my finger. "Wow, pretty ring."

 _Chickadeeeeeeeeee?_ I scream on the inside. I'm his chickadee? The head pat and the sweet nickname have me twirling on a cloud, but when he randomly comments on the ring? The ring he proposed with last night? Oh, man. I'm dying, but manage to squeak out, "Thanks."

His eyes study mine for a few seconds before he speaks again. "You've always been the nicest girl in our grade and the best girl I know. I hope you know that, too."

I smile, feeling my cheeks heat up instantly before I huff. "Thanks. You are, too."

He scrunches up his face. "You callin' me a girl?"

We both laugh quietly before Mr. Jackson shushes us while he writes on the chalk board.

"Edward, you coming to Kate's house tomorrow night?" Emily interrupts our private moment without a care in the world. "Her parents are going to the shore to get their place ready for the summer. She thinks her older brother might let us drink some beer." Emily turns toward me with a snotty look. "Just a few of our close friends, though. No hard feelings."

I sigh and start copying what the teacher is writing. I already know what beer tastes like, and I'm not interested. The sip I had from my dad's frosted mug last year was gross.

Hanging out with Edward, however, is another story. Definitely nowhere near gross.

Edward twists his body toward me again while he rolls his eyes at her. It makes me smile, like he doesn't even care what she thinks of him or our friendship. "Don't even pay attention to her," he whispers. "Just remember what I said, 'cause it's true." The grin he flashes makes me draw our initials together in my head and surround them with a big, loopy heart. My Slambook is covered in "Bella and Edward Forever's." I spend so many nights going through pictures of us snapped over the years and put them into my collection. I love leafing through it, but at the same time, it makes me feel dumb.

We're in two different leagues. Even though he's so nice to me in our alone moments, that's all we have now that we're older. Occasional alone moments. Edward already drinks beer at parties with the prettiest girls and no parents as chaperones, and I still draw hearts in notebooks, hoping for him to give me another glance in _that_ way, someday.

We've shared a lot through almost eight years of grade school together. Whether we were boyfriend-girlfriend or best friends and flashlight tag partners, our status never truly mattered to me.

This boy still holds my heart, and I bet he doesn't even know it.

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

* * *

 **A/N: Sigh...those early teen years were so angsty for so many, huh? We're about to transition into high school, folks. Hang in there while these two kids figure out which end is up with each other AND within themselves! I love hearing from all of you after each chapter. Thanks so much for stopping by to read. And a big thank you to Born Onhalloween for a lovely review of FAF, and to the FicSisters for helping to spread the word about the new, little tale we have brewing here.**

 **Have a great weekend, and I'll see you next Friday!**

 **xo, Jen**


	5. Chapter 5

**(-)(-)(-)Far Away Flame(-)(-)(-)**

 _September 1989_

"We have to find you someone else to go after." Charlotte announces, licking her lips of residual orange dust from the Cheetos she's scarfing. "Edward is old news, and we just started high school with two thousand students, half of them hot boys."

I yawn, watching the hundreds of pine trees whizz by while sitting in the backseat of her mom's mini-van. Char is right, but still, I don't know that I'll ever be able to let go of my pull toward Edward. Then again, I've already seen at least four cute guys at freshman orientation, and now here we are, on our way to start our high school careers. Surely I'll find someone else who interests me . . .

"There's a really cute blonde-haired, blue-eyed goalie on the freshman soccer team. Tall and lanky, just like you like 'em."

I throw a Cheeto at her. Ten points for a ding to her eyebrow.

She laughs and pops it in her mouth, mumbling, "You're the goalie on the freshman field hockey team, Bella. Two goalies! How cute would that be?"

"Yup. 'Cause it's just that simple." The snap of my fingers matches my snappish tone. Still though, two goalies would be a pretty cool idea. "What's his name?"

"Brady something." Charlotte says then burps, passing me the bottle of Mountain Blackberry Clearly Canadian we're sharing as her mom pulls the car into their driveway. Tonight is our last sleepover before the school year officially starts. We survived orientation Thursday; upperclassmen went on Friday while the freshmen had the day off, and we'll all start as four classes on Monday. It's making my stomach both nervous and excited. I can't decide which emotion is stronger.

"I did see a tall blonde in the net on the soccer field during conditioning for the last two weeks." I recall.

"You mean you actually noticed somebody other than Edward out there?"

I smile, full of snark. "Well, when all Edward does is score goals, it's kinda hard to miss the guy he keeps scoring on." I get out of the van and wait for her to follow, but she stops mid-exit, perching at the ledge of the van doorway.

"I can't believe you just insulted your new boyfriend like that."

I shake my head. "Shut up, whacko. Let's just get him to notice me first."

.

.

.

I fall into my seat at the lunch table, waiting for the Spanish Inquisition via Charlotte to begin.

"So?" she starts. "Did you see Brady in the C-wing? You better have gone that way, woman," she threatens, shoving her pork roll and cheese sandwich in her mouth. She barely chews before continuing to chastise me. "I wasted valuable Marcus-ogling time in the guidance office, trying to map out Brady's schedule for you."

"Yes, dear. I went the way you told me to before first period and crossed paths with him right before he went into his history class, and I said hello to him . . . as planned."

"And?"

I shrug, unimpressed. "And he said 'hi'."

She sits straight up and gasps, pounding her fist next to her tray. "He totally wants you."

My eyes roll. Char's gone off the deep end just that quickly.

She finally swallows her mouthful and chugs some chocolate milk from the carton. "Cool. Your next mission is to talk to him after you're both done with your practices today."

"Our practice fields are nowhere near each other. How the heck can I talk to him after practice?"

"You're always the last one in, lugging in your equipment, pads and stuff, right? Well, he's in charge of dragging the bag of balls inside when it's over, too."

I can't hide my confusion. "Yeah, that's what I have to do, but how do you know about their practices?"

"'Cause you're looking at the new freshman boys' soccer team manager."

My jaw drops. "No way."

"I'm totally serious, dude. Mr. Thatcher told me and another girl we had the job during homeroom this morning. I'll get into Brady's brain as much as possible, and I'll have you two dancing at homecoming before you know it."

The thought makes me giddy.

"It'll be sayonara, Edward! Finally!" She shouts, clapping along with her hoots and hollers.

I shake my head at her goofiness but turn just in time to find Edward—two tables over—do a double take in our direction, sending me a smile and head nod. Five hundred teenagers squawking in the lunchroom right now, and he hears his name.

And that wonderful, giddy feeling from ten seconds earlier vanishes in an instant.

.

.

.

September comes and goes and, as usual, Shawnee field hockey is unstoppable. The varsity coach is known throughout the state for being an expert and successfully leading her teams to New Jersey state championships year after year. I'm only on the freshman team, but the coach has already pulled me aside in the locker room. Telling me how impressed she's been with my performance this season, she's made it clear that if I keep up the great work, she'll look at me next year to possibly skip junior varsity and tend goal for her varsity squad. I'm beyond elated.

My skills in the cage have opened up numerous opportunities to make new friends on and off the field, including Brady Wells. He's purposely been hanging back for the last week or two. When the girls' hockey practice runs longer than boys' soccer, he usually catches me to chit-chat before we all head home for the night on the 6:15 bus.

"Nice job out there." I look behind me to find the owner of the smooth voice. _Brady._

"Thanks," I pull the sweaty mask from my face and grab the squirt bottle. The tepid water tastes like grass clippings. God knows how many people have drunk from these things over the years, but I'm desperate and parched, and the team's manager fills them fresh for every practice. It'll have to do. I also happen to be nervous as hell and want something else to occupy the next twenty seconds instead of stuttering through the beginning of a conversation with this gorgeous guy. When I finally come up for air, I go with the obvious. "How'd you do today?"

He shrugs. "Not bad. Coach said I'm gonna start for the rest of the season, which is cool."

"That's great!" I sit down on the grass and start unfastening the buckles of the hockey pads at my cleats and up my legs. "When's your next game?"

"Tomorrow against Cherokee, same as yours. I always love when our buses pull into the lot at away games, and this sea of navy blue filters out and spreads across another team's field."

It is pretty cool to see all the guys and girls from soccer and hockey go up against another school on the same day. Makes the school spirit that much more palpable.

"So how about you?" He collapses on the grass in front of me, sipping his water. "Are you the starter?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty pumped. We have a second and third string goalie, but they'll probably only get field time if we're scoring goals left and right," I say with a sigh. "That's the offense's responsibility, though; I just keep it out of the cage."

"I hear ya," he agrees, offering up his palm for a high five. The swoon-factor kicks in big time as my hand smacks against his. Brady's glassy blue eyes are speckled with hazel streaks, and he grows increasingly more tan with every day on the field. I have to stop staring before I embarrass myself.

"WELLS!" A deep voice shouts then screeches out a whistle from the outside door of the boys' locker room. We both turn to see Edward standing there before jogging toward us.

 _Shit_. Why does he always appear when I'm ready for him to go away?

"Coach is trying to do a final meeting before we're done for the day." Edward's normally cool voice is gruff as he approaches. I continue to unbuckle my pads without making eye contact, but I'm like a moth to a flame when Edward's in my vicinity. I feel the heat rise in my face and across my back while I glance up. He directs his stare at me, looking like he's a million light years away until he snaps his head to the right toward Brady. "Stop flirting and get going."

"Cool your jets, Cullen. I'm on my way." Brady stands, reaching his hand out for mine to help me up. Edward, of course, remains frozen, but I feel his icy gaze on me.

"Good luck tomorrow. I'll be looking for ya," Brady says with a wink, squeezing my hand. I want to swoon in one second and pass out from overwhelming nausea in the next, knowing Edward is still watching.

"Yeah, thanks," I choke out. Brady turns, brushing past Edward with a shoulder shove, indicating there's no love lost between them.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say I just witnessed my first pissing contest, but I do know better. Maybe it's a soccer rivalry or something. There's no way this has to do with me at all. This is Edward who rolls with a different crowd now, and I'm not even a blip on his radar. Maybe I was at some point in our past, but we were wearing Underoos back then.

I attempt a genuine smile while Edward continues to stare me down. The tight grin and the "Hey" he barely returns solidify it.

Overwhelming nausea it is.

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

 _June 1990_

"How about Great Adventure next weekend?" my boyfriend asks, leaning against the lockers while I try and retry to get my combination right. Stupid thing never works the first time. "My brother's going with a few friends, and he said he'd take us along. Wanna go?"

I wrestle with the latch but win. "Sounds like fun. I'll have to check with my parents, but yeah, definitely." After trading my algebra and earth science books for my choral folder and Latin book, I slam the door. "Will you go on Great American Scream Machine with me? I'm a coaster girl."

Brady chuckles, waggling his eyebrows. "Like a bumpy ride, do you?" He leans in and pecks me on the lips. "Hell, yes. Love roller coasters." The first bell rings, alerting us that we have one minute until we're late for our next class. "Shit, gotta book it to Health. I'll find you before study hall." He steals one more kiss and takes off down the hall as I make my way around the corner to the music wing for chorus.

I get to my chair just as the bell rings, and Mrs. Allen starts passing out sheet music to the soprano section.

"Can't believe she's so lucky." Some girl, Lisa something, speaks quietly behind me. "I mean, my gosh, _Edward Cullen_."

My ears perk up after she whimpers his name, and I tilt toward her conversation.

"I wonder if it hurt. My sister says it might hurt the first time." Sue's voice chimes in. I know Sue from hockey, and we're friendly enough.

"She said they just laid there naked on the bed and watched TV when it was over."

 _Edward? Naked? Hurting the first time?_ My stomach rolls, terrified that the "a plus b equals c" gossip I hear behind me holds any weight at all.

"Really? That would be too weird and embarrassing for me. I'd be under the covers or dressed right after it was over. What if my parents came home?"

"That's just it. Her parents were out of town for the weekend. I heard he slept over. They're not even boyfriend-girlfriend, they just—"

I can't take it anymore, whipping around, hoping to gather a clearer version of the tale from Sue.

"What are you guys talking about?" I whisper.

Sue leans in, eyes bright as a full moon. "Dorie Chester," she hisses, jerking her head across the room toward the sopranos. "Everyone's talking about her and Edward Cullen losing their virginities to each other over the weekend."

My heart sinks. He isn't mine, he hasn't been for years. It's not like he cheated on me, and the chances of me ever truly reconnecting with him while in this enormous high school are nonexistent. But losing his virginity? We're only fifteen. I can't believe it.

Or don't want to.

I shake my head. "But how do we know that? Somebody could be spreading rumors."

"Dorie was telling a few of us in homeroom this morning, _and_ they're both walking around with purple hickeys on their necks," she squeaks. "You can't make that up."

I widen my eyes and sit back. I assume that's the reaction she's looking for. Sue wanted to see surprise and satisfaction at hearing her juicy gossip. She couldn't care less that my heart and gut just shattered into a billion pieces.

It doesn't make sense to me, though. Edward's always been a decent guy. Incredibly good-looking, one of the smarter kids in our class, and a star athlete, but pretty shy around girls.

Nothing adds up. He and I no longer have the kind of friendship where I can walk up and ask him outright. Being his girlfriend six years ago doesn't give me any free passes, and we're definitely in two different leagues, running with different crowds. Have been for a while.

I'll have to do my own recon mission. We always pass each other while I head toward study hall and he heads toward . . . wherever. I saw him from the back this morning, and he was wearing a t-shirt. Shouldn't be too hard to check out his neck.

While staring daggers across the room at Dorie, who's none the wiser, we all sing, "Mommy made me mash my M&M's" in arpeggios. I think I see a faint mark below her right ear, but until I'm closer, I refuse to fuel the rumors or get myself any more upset.

Once we're dismissed, I stumble my way past the tight seats on the risers of the chorus room and snake my way through the crowd to walk out just behind Dorie. I match her stride as we turn the corner, and I catch a glimpse of what is definitely a hickey.

 _Crap_. A pit forms in my stomach.

I will myself to relax; the mark could be from anyone. This girl has a reputation for getting around a bit. No reason to assume Edward's mouth put it there.

"Hey, beautiful." Brady slides his arm around my waist and we turn the corner toward the media center. "How was chorus?"

I crinkle my brow, drawn out of super-sleuth mode to answer my boyfriend. "Huh? Oh, good. It was good."

"Cool." Brady continues to yammer on about his health class, but I suck because I'm not paying attention to him at all. Right now I'm hyper-focused on finding Edward's neck and possibly wringing it. If for no other reason than disappointing the hell out of me.

I hear his laugh before I see him, joking with his soccer friends outside the locker room as we approach, Dorie now a few steps ahead of Brady and me. Edward is wearing his pale blue Quicksilver t-shirt and jeans. I love that shirt. I remember when he bought it back in eighth grade. I'd been at the mall with my mom, and we happened to see him and his mom shopping at Macy's. He was so cute. He was _always_ so friggin' cute.

I hate him for that.

Striding past the locker room and attempting to be nonchalant, I glance at Edward, who smiles at Dorie, putting his arm around her shoulders when she sidles up next to him. It's not the embrace of a boyfriend, just a good buddy. Yet, there on his neck is an obnoxious purple mark, way more pronounced than the one on Dorie's neck, which signifies their apparent dirty deed.

I can't believe he let that floozy latch onto his neck like a sucker fish and do God-knows-what-else to him.

I'm embarrassed for him and angry with him.

I have no business being either.

And I know that, but I wish that our childhood relationship trumped the nothingness we seem to swim in now.

He catches my gaze at the precise moment Brady places a soft kiss on my neck. I watch Edward's jovial expression dim and his Adam's apple bob up and down. His melancholy smile acknowledges me from three feet away, and it tears me to shreds.

I guess this is us now.

Edward and Bella used to be married in Kindergarten.

Edward and Bella used to be boyfriend and girlfriend, but mostly just best friends throughout elementary school and junior high.

Edward and Bella are barely even acquaintances in high school, which is why we pass right by each other without exchanging a hello while I'm wrapped up in my boyfriend's towering embrace.

 _Time to let go, Bella,_ I find myself chanting those words as the day progresses. Holding onto something that was never there to begin with is beyond unfair to you and to him. He didn't do anything to you, so quit acting like he did.

You're not with Edward, you're with Brady. Time to get over yourself and move the hell on.

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

* * *

 **A/N: Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.**

 **Much love to my awesome fiery team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay & Momo. And super-duper love and hugs to all my readers and those who've taken the time to leave me their thoughts, sharing their stories of first loves, first** **crushes, and first heartaches. Growing up was so painful at times. Those life lessons hurt like hell. Please know I'm hugging you from afar and raising my glass to you that we all managed to survive somehow.**

 **Thanks so much for reading, friends. See you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	6. Chapter 6

**(-)(-)(-)Far Away Flame(-)(-)(-)**

 _November 1991_

"And your junior attendants to the homecoming court this year are . . . Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen!"

Whistles, cheers and claps resound, while I plaster a fake smile on my face, trying not to trip my way down the bleachers in the gym. Edward stands with a grin, waiting for me at the bottom bench. As student council vice-president, he's been participating in the pep rally since it started thirty minutes earlier. He's also the natural choice for homecoming attendant for our class. With the way his high school career has been going, he's had future homecoming king in the bag since freshman year.

It's hard to tell if he enjoys all the notoriety, though. Edward's always been a natural leader, so his participation in student council isn't a surprise. His soccer skills have only sharpened over the years, and he continues to be one of the strongest players on the varsity team. And then, of course, there are the girls who are forever flocking to him. But he doesn't flaunt any relationships. I can't think of one time I've seen him holding hands with a girl and thank God I've never had to witness him tonguing anyone down in the hallway like some of the other manwhores in this school. I honestly don't know if Edward's been involved with anyone since the infamous tryst with Dorie Whatsherface from back in the day.

I don't even remember, nor do I care.

Except that I do.

It was Dorie friggin' Chester, and it still kills me that he had sex with her a year and a half ago. I don't get it.

Then again, I don't get much of anything these days. Brady and I broke up at the end of the summer when I stopped us from having sex on his half birthday. He thought it was an occasion to celebrate with a lot of nakedness. I wasn't ready yet and thought keeping some clothes on would be a smarter choice, saving the total nakedness for a more important day, like an _actual_ birthday. He disagreed, zipped up, and left my house in a huff.

Turns out he still celebrated with nakedness but with somebody else. Dorie Chester of all people.

It's like she was meant to be the bane of my existence.

We split a few days after he slept with Dorie when he told me the truth. The only time it hurts is when I see a couple sharing a locker or holding hands while walking to class. I had a boyfriend I really cared about on major holidays for over two years. Now I walk around wishing I didn't have to endure the song dedications our chem teacher-slash-disc jockey plays between classes from the start of the day until dismissal every Friday and on holidays. It's a good thing our school isn't on the side of a mountain. Teenagers mourning a relationship can only hear "Don't Know What You've Got (Till It's Gone)" and "Love Bites" so many times before winging yourself off a cliff seems like a viable option to end the torture.

Speaking of existence, I wish I were anywhere but here right now. The only reason people even know my name is because of the hockey game last weekend. We were tied two all and had to go into a shoot-out against Moorestown Friends, where I blocked four out of the five attempts on me.

We're going to the state finals next weekend because of it. I kicked ass, and I'm proud of myself, but this attention is for the birds. I'm praying the ground will swallow me any minute now.

I didn't even know I was listed on the ballot until lunch three days ago when Charlotte came up to me, squealing, holding the paper in her hands where my name was listed among a few of the most beautiful of girls in our junior class. "One Of These Kids Is Doing His Own Thing," from _Sesame Street_ is the appropriate insertion here.

The other four names are girls from a group known as the "Sexy Six-Pack." Model-types who all drink and smoke, have had sex, and do all the things the super-popular kids do. Normally, an athletic person, who blocked multiple goals and is responsible for bringing her field hockey team to the state finals might qualify as "that" crowd material . . . but I'm the exception to the rule.

Yes, I play for the varsity field hockey team, but I also sing in chorus, perform in the all-school musicals, play in the bell choir and hang out with the skaters who have asymmetrical haircuts.

Nobody can figure me out, and I like it that way. Problem is, I don't think any of the guys I find attractive can figure me out either, so instead, they just pal around with me and I remain single. The great friend. The girl next door. And it sucks.

"Congratulations," Edward says with a smile, taking my hand and stepping out toward the middle of the floor where the freshmen and sophomore attendants are already waiting. "You okay?"

I'm excited and mortified and trying my best not to vomit on Edward's Bass Weejun penny loafers. How many times have I dreamed that he'd be holding my hand for all the world to see? This is just a stage show, though. He's not mine. I won a popularity contest because I blocked four goals. I don't even want to look over at the Sexy Six-Pack, who are probably plotting my demise.

How dare I steal their thunder and all that jazz? I look up into the rafters just to be sure that a bucket of pig's blood isn't dangling on a rope above my head.

And might I add, I look insane, wearing my hockey kilt and jersey right now while Edward is decked out in Gap's finest khakis and argyle sweater. We have to wear our uniforms on game days, or in this case, the last day of school before a game occurs over a long weekend. At least, when they take official pictures of the court at the football game, I'll be dressed up. Right now though, I feel like the ugly duckling next to the swan prince.

"Bella?"

Oh, right. The long-lost crush of my childhood asked me a question.

"Yeah. I can't believe this, though. I feel ridiculous."

The cheering dies down after we take our place and the names for Homecoming king and queen are announced.

"YEAH, Oz!" Edward whoops for his buddy, Royce Osbourne, who they just announced as king. He joins his longtime girlfriend, Jane Masters, our new queen, on the red mini-carpet.

"Your 1991 Shawnee High School Homecoming Court!" The band breaks into the Renegade fight song as the football players and cheerleaders start jumping around the gym, getting the crowd riled up for the big game tomorrow morning.

I chance a peek at Edward and find him gazing down at me. Just the hint of his genuine smile has a couple of butterflies ping-ponging in my stomach. He tips his mouth toward my ear. "Don't feel ridiculous. You're a star in more ways than one. You rocked that the hell outta that hockey game." Dipping his head, he nods when I look in his eyes for affirmation.

"You were there?"

He responds with an incredulous look. "Where else would I have been?"

I shrug, my confused smile emerging. "I just didn't realize you followed our season."

"Bella. You're like, my oldest friend, and you're the fucking goalie on the varsity hockey team. Of course I was there, even sat in front of your parents. I had to leave as soon as they blew the final whistle because Embry needed to get picked up from his karate lesson, but yeah, I saw the whole thing. _And_ I saw the scouts on the sidelines talking to your assistant coaches during the penalty shots."

I curl my lips into my mouth, containing my embarrassment and a hint of giddiness. This boy continues to surprise me. He notices details. He pays attention. And he's a better person than I am because I haven't bothered with boys' soccer ever since Brady and I broke it off. Yeah, Edward is still on the team . . . but holding onto that nugget of a relationship and friendship as the reason to attend games just made me feel dumb.

And now I learn all this.

 _Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in._

"Seriously. I'd take you any day over the other girls who were nominated. Enjoy this. You deserve it."

Completely dazed by his compliments, I smile and clap in time with the band, just like the rest of the crowd. I really don't know how to feel about what Edward said. He'd prefer me over the crowd that he hangs with every day in the hall? The Sexy Six-Pack and their entourage? Granted, I haven't heard any other stomach-turning sex rumors about him since that first time, so I have no idea if he's been with any other girls in _that_ way. But he's surrounded by them . . . constantly.

It's been eleven years since this boy gave me his mom's ring, asking me to marry him. I readily admit that I'm the stupid one for ever clinging to that memory. I know it holds no weight here, not that it ever did. But when he says stuff like what he just told me? How am I supposed to just ignore it? Ignore him?

I can rattle off the names of a dozen other attractive guys, who, if they asked, I'd jump at the chance to date them. I'm not totally hung up on Edward; I don't have a death-by-heartache wish. We've had a couple of classes together over the years. And we always say hello when we pass each other in the hall nowadays. I'm glad we're able to acknowledge each other without any awkwardness. We've both moved on from whatever confusion surrounded us when we started high school.

Do I think he's still gorgeous? Of course I do; I imagine I always will. But I don't pine away for him anymore. And hello? Our last real relationship together was when we were in fourth grade. If I were still swooning over him daily, based on who we used to be, I think I'd be considered a lovesick freak even by fringe-standards.

My inner monologue comes to a screeching halt when Edward turns back to my ear to convey another message over the dull roar of the crowd. "And listen, Brady was never good enough for you. I hated what he did to you. Fuck him for sleeping with Dorie."

Internally, I scream, "Oh, my God!" with a megaphone. Like, is anyone else hearing what he's saying to me? How am I _not_ supposed to over-analyze this? Isn't a seventeen-year-old-girl's life confusing enough?

Outwardly, I huff and return a small smile. "That's the way some relationships go, I guess." Not quite poetry, but it gets me off the hook because he nods his head once and goes back to giving high-fives to some of his friends on the football team.

I know he's not saying this stuff to play with my emotions, tease me, or be cruel. He's a sweet guy, always has been.

It's all totally genuine, and it _kills_ me.

But he's a clueless boy, just as much as I'm a clueless girl, only for different reasons.

I can't wait to graduate and get out of this town. The next year and a half can't fly by fast enough. Maybe if Edward's not accessible every day I can drop the lingering curiosity about him that's never gone away. I don't want to revert to doodling his name when I'm bored. There's nothing healthy about that.

.

.

.

Finding out I'm on the Homecoming Court on Wednesday morning and then being expected to be dolled up by Thursday morning at the game really sucks, to put it mildly. I have no time to find a dress, so I end up borrowing Rosalie's gown that she wore to her Junior Dinner Dance last year. She's become one of my closest friends ever since my sophomore year when we were seated next to each other in Algebra 2. Rose is a year ahead of me, and I hate the thought that she'll be graduating in the spring. At least she plans to go to Monmouth College, so she won't be far, and we'll be able to visit each other several times a semester.

Thankfully, the dress clings to my body like a glove and doesn't look half-bad. It's fitted and tea-length, off-the-shoulder in an ice blue color. Not that I planned it, but it coordinates well with our high school colors of navy, light blue, and white. With Edward wearing a black suit and a navy tie, we're the picture of school spirit. All I have to do is make it through the morning without freezing my ass off due to the forty degree winds sweeping the field and the ice cold daggers the Sexy Six-Pack and their harem of hoochies keep sending my way.

 _Like I asked for this?_ I'd rather be anywhere but here. Well, let's not be too hasty. Anywhere with Edward _other_ than here.

Thankfully, the festivities don't require much more than walking out onto the middle of the football field at halftime on this blustery Thanksgiving day. Being on Edward's arm for those fifteen minutes is bound to be pretty awesome, but I try to ground myself and not get carried away by choosing wedding colors and the names of our future babies.

Dignity: still intact . . . sorta.

"You look really pretty," he says, meeting me in the hallway before we head out to the field. He smoothes down the lapels of his suit jacket, leveling me with his sincere yet killer smile. "Do I look good enough to escort you?"

I almost choke on my gum. "Uhh, yes. I'm pretty sure we should be concerned with me being good enough to be walking in with _you_."

His face crinkles; he seems legitimately perplexed, shaking his head. "Why would you think that?"

 _Is he serious?_

I roll my eyes. "Because you're you, Edward Cullen, demigod,"—I flick my jazz hands up to the sky—"and I'm just . . . me."

His face remains frozen in confusion, assuring me he _is_ serious and just as clueless as I think he is.

"Edward. You know how popular you are, and how . . . _not_ I am. We both know, hell, this whole stadium knows; the only reason I'm up here today is because Shawnee is all about sports, and I'm the headliner this week." I shrug, resigned. "I've never been noticed before, and after the state final has come and gone this weekend, I'll go back to fading into the background like the other five hundred juniors in our class."

"Bella—" His whispered response sounds pained, but I interrupt to reassure him.

"It's okay, really it is. I don't hold it against you or anything." I chuckle, laying my hand on his forearm. "In a school this big, people are bound to find their own cliques and stuff. You found yours, I found mine, and it's fine."

His gaze searches over my shoulder while he seems to struggle to find the words to respond. "I mean, yeah, we've hung out with different crowds over the years. But, I've never thought of you as unpopular. There are two thousand kids in this school. I see groups of people known for different things, but I've never considered one person more popular than another." He focuses on me again. "And I certainly still count you as a friend even though we rarely get a chance to spend time together. I would hope you think of me that way, too." His furrowed brow accompanies a shrug, and I wonder if I've hurt his feelings. "And don't think I haven't seen you with Jansen and Corning and all their crowd in the halls. I hear what guys say about you in the locker room." His raised eyebrows make me a little excited but beyond confused. "You've got plenty of admirers."

My eyes bug out. Andrew Jansen and Ross Corning talk about me? In _that_ way? Two of the hottest skater-dudes in our school? It would be nice if one of them actually expressed their feelings to me! I'm pitifully single and being a third wheel with friends has gotten old really fast. I'm going to need a notarized list of these "guys" he's speaking of. Stat.

Back to Edward, though. Priorities of the moment and all.

I scoff, trying not to give it any more thought. "Well, I'm not sure about all that. But anyway, I guess we'll make an okay showing together during halftime."

Edward reaches his arm out, inviting me to loop mine through his. When I brush up against his side, he bends his neck down to whisper in my ear. "Better than okay. With you next to me, I think we're going to look pretty damn fantastic."

Once again after hearing his words, my inner, little girl's heart finds the ability to soar.

No, we haven't pledged our love to each other. And the sentiments we've expressed during today's moment of togetherness doesn't mean that on Monday we'll be hanging out in the hallway before homeroom, or that we'll save each other a dance at the prom in the spring.

 _No._

His kind gaze and look of admiration that I often daydreamed would someday be only for me is certainly for me right now, and I'm really okay with it; so, I smile back.

.

.

.

Monday morning, I arrive at school with a renewed sense of self-confidence laced with a tinge of anxiety. I crack my knuckles, waiting for Ross Corning to exit the locker room. Of course it's taking him forever today; he's worse than a girl after gym class ends.

"Hey, Bells!" Sue calls out from the opposite end of the hall. "Coach needs to talk to you about the awards dinner. Do you have a minute?"

"Yup, be right there," I answer while Ross chooses that moment to saunter out of the locker room doorway. The flirtatious grin I earn makes me think he's happy I waited. "Hey."

"'Sup, Swannie?"

"Wanted to ask you a question." Right to the point, that's the way to do it. Also the way not to chicken out just in case I suffer from acute hypnosis brought on by his killer hazel eyes. "Do you have plans on Friday?"

He shakes his head, containing what I hope is an eager smile. "Nothing that can't be moved around. Why? Do _you_ have plans on Friday?" His hair falls into his eyes when he dips his head to get closer to mine.

I swallow my nerves and continue. "Well, I figured since you're usually hanging in front of the AMC Theater on Friday nights practicing your ollies and grinds, maybe instead I could coax you inside to protect me from Robert DeNiro in _Cape Fear_."

"Forego the board for a date with the state champion goalie, huh?" I smile at his teasing just as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. "That's the best offer I've had in a long time," he whispers in my ear while he turns us to head in the other direction. We manage to take half a step before running smack dab into Edward, who's exiting the locker room.

My breath catches in my throat as Edward backs up and steps aside, a thoughtful look on his face. "Sorry about that," he offers quietly with a subtle grin.

"No worries, dude." Ross gives him a head nod and continues to walk us down the hall.

It takes everything in me to not turn around to see if Edward is still watching us . . . watching me. But I manage to keep moving.

And for the first time in forever, even though he's an inextinguishable fire that will probably always light a corner of my heart, I feel okay leaving Edward behind.

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: Oy, these kids. Hang in there, beauties. Time jumps are ahead, and we're off to college next.**

 **Thank you all for reading and to those who review and share your stories . . . much love and appreciation. See you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	7. Chapter 7

**(+)(+)(+)Far Away Flame(+)(+)(+)**

 _October 1996_

"Bella! Phone!"

I turn the flame off under my grilled cheese, slap it onto a paper plate, and move the frying pan to the back burner. "Coming!"

The sorority house is oddly quiet for a Thursday evening. I suppose some of the other girls are getting ready for the mixer with Theta Chi. I showered already and came down to make myself a half-decent dinner, knowing I plan to do some major partying tonight.

Not only did I kick ass on my child psych exam this morning, but I took a second pregnancy test at the clinic on campus today, and I'm officially _not_ pregnant.

Oh, we are most certainly celebrating.

I'll never regret these five months of outrageous sex I've had with Jared, my lab partner with benefits . . . but when my period didn't show up a couple of weeks ago, I was convinced my life was over. Lord knows I can't have a baby on my own, and I sure as hell wasn't going to look to Jared to be an upstanding guy and marry me, let alone raise a baby with me. We've been screwing around; we aren't in love. After being raised as a good, little Catholic girl, the thought of an abortion had me too overwhelmed with guilt, not that it stopped me from having pre-marital sex. Plus, I'm not sitting on the three hundred dollars it would cost to travel to Harrisburg to have it done . . . basically, I've been a mess.

But, lo and behold, the health office confirmed I'm not pregnant and gave me meds to bring on my period.

Anyway, senior year can continue without any more baby drama, and I'm about to get drunk and bask in my stroke of luck. Babies in the future? Oh, hell yes . . . but babies at twenty-one with no permanent man by my side? I think not.

"BELLA!"

"Coming, sorry!" I take the stairs two at a time and run into my room to pick up my extension. "Got it!" I shout back to Ellen and wait for her to hang up at her end. "Hello?"

" _Hi. Are you sitting down?"_

Rosalie's question has me instantly on edge. "Well, hello to you, too, and yeah, I'm on my bed. What's up?"

" _Okay. So, who was the hottest guy in my graduating class?"_

I think for a few seconds, but the answer is second nature even though she was a year ahead of me in high school. Everyone knew all the popular, cute boys in the school, no matter their age or class. "Yours? Easy. Emmett McCarty. Why?"

" _Yeah. I have a date with him on Friday."_

"SHUT! UP!"

She squeals in my ear, and I join her, laughing, sighing, completely flabbergasted. "You've got to be kidding me."

" _Swear to God."_

Emmett McCarty? He was worshiped as an idol at our school, and Rosalie didn't swing with his crowd at all. In fact, she made it a hobby to roll her eyes at the girls in that clique and their holier-than-thou, fake-bake, fashionista ways whenever possible. This is too much. "Seriously, how did this even happen?"

" _I was at an early happy hour at Friday's, having drinks with friends after work today. He was there with a group of guys doing the same thing. I smiled at him and he came over to my table, sat down and started talking to me."_

"I can't . . ." I shake my head, still in disbelief. "I can't—this is like our Jake Ryan fantasy. You're going to go on a date with **the** hot boy!"

" _I know!"_ she laughs. _"But wait, you'll love this. He didn't realize we both went to the same high school."_

I fall backward on my bed, bursting into laughter with her. This is just proof that people in _that_ crowd never realize who surrounds them. They're blissfully unaware and off in their own little bubble. I'm not saying that Emmett was a jerk—far from it, actually. He always seemed really sweet, from a distance, of course. Let's be honest, he wouldn't know me if he tripped over me. And as for Rosalie, she's always been pretty, but in a school of two thousand students, the laws of probability that the hottest guys would notice girls like Rosalie and me weren't always in our favor.

"Well, I'm sure you had a hell of a time telling him that you were in the Class of '92 right along next to him."

" _He was really embarrassed. I can't believe this, Bella. Stuff like this doesn't happen to us! I hate that you're away at school and can't go with me for moral support,"_ she whines.

"Rosalie, even if I were still at my parents' house down the road, I wouldn't crash your date. You're on your own, sweetie."

" _Oh wait, totally forgot to tell you that your favorite boy was there, too."_

Favorite boy? I can't imagine who he had with him. I know Emmett was a soccer star on the varsity squad since his sophomore year of school, and that he had the same, drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, Mindy Markell, for all the years he attended Shawnee. I never knew who was part of his close circle of friends, though. Just knew they were all stunning; what more did I need to know?

"I give." I shrug. "Who was with him?"

" _Edward Cullen."_

My heart stops for a second. That name will probably always have that effect on me. "No way."

" _Oh, yes, ma'am! He was surprised to learn I went to Shawnee, too."_

I roll my eyes, because, yeah, that sounds about right. Even though Edward never had a cruel bone in his body, he was clueless back in the day and apparently he's just as clueless now.

"So, wait. He and Emmett are really close like that?"

" _I guess. I mean, they played soccer together at Shawnee, but Emmett said they did the local traveling squads together when they were kids. Medford Strikers and that whole thing. Apparently they've known each other since grade school."_

"Wow." Just that quickly, I'm back in the imaginary clutches of Edward. Poor guy needs to get far, far away from me. If he knew half the stuff I've occasionally daydreamed about over the years, he'd run for the hills. Screaming.

Unable to turn off my school-girl brain for a second, I'm envisioning double dates leading to double weddings, Brady Bunch-style.

I need therapy.

I shake off my insanity and smile again. "I'm so happy for you," I squeal and then add, "Hi, Rosalie McCarty!"

She gasps in horror. _"Would you stop? But holy CRAP does that sound nice or what?"_ We both dissolve in a fit of giggles. _"All right, moving onto more real life scenarios. What's the latest with you?"_

"I'm not pregnant, and I'm getting drunk tonight. That's about it."

" _I told you you weren't. But I'm glad you got confirmation."_

"Yeah. So, I'm sorry, can we get back to you and Jake Ryan for a second? How does Emmett look? How does Edward look?"

" _Emmett looks awesome. Filled out a little, but those dimples of his are still killer. And Edward?"_ She whistles. _"Fine as always, girl. Why did you_ ever _let him go?"_

I roll my eyes. "Thanks a lot. The last time he was officially mine was 1985. A few things changed since then. Including us." I smack my hand to my forehead. "So he really looked good, huh?"

" _He did."_

Of fucking course he did. _Bastard._

"Did it sound like Edward would be around for you to hang out with him again?"

" _We really didn't get that far, actually. Emmett called him over after a little while. He shook my hand. We all had a beer."_

"Did you bring up my name?"

" _Lord, no. I wasn't going to embarrass you without talking to you first."_

"Good thinking." Although I'm dying to know what his reaction would be if he found out that Rosalie and I are close friends.

" _Oh, crap. That's my other line. I've gotta run. I'll call you Saturday to let you know how it goes!"_

"Yes, you must! Love you! Have fun!" I squeak.

" _Thanks, love you, too."_

I hang up with a smile cemented on my face. The excitement for Rosalie that's thrumming through my veins could send me into orbit. This whole scenario of her random meeting with Emmett—even though they were in the vicinity of each other for four straight years in high school—makes this even more mind-blowing.

Edward re-surfacing is another story altogether. I just want to know how he's doing and if he's happy. I'd be lying if I said he isn't always a thought at the back of my mind.

It's been three and a half years since I saw him last. We graduated high school on June 20, 1993, and I watched him walk across the stage to get his diploma and that was it. In our graduating yearbook, his senior memories and future plans listed that he was heading to West Virginia University to play soccer and major in sports medicine. I hope he's succeeding.

Weird though that he's in Marlton on this random Thursday in late October. Maybe his school has a late fall break weekend? Ours was two weeks ago. The calculations and calendar dates are puzzling.

When I left for college, I started with a clean slate. Ross and I remained friendly, but we agreed the long-distance thing wasn't for us. I've had my share of dates, mini-relationships and sexual encounters. I never permitted myself to stay hung up on Edward enough to stunt my experiences. As much as I knew he'd always hold a piece of my heart, I refused to allow that to keep me looking back. And it's been great fun . . . as evidenced by the pregnancy scare.

Still, every time I'm back at my parents' house, I do drive-bys of his house in the hopes that he's home for the same holiday break, but we never cross paths.

The prospect of a budding romance between Rosalie and Emmett suddenly has me brimming with excitement that I might be able to reestablish a connection—dare I say it?—friendship with Edward.

There'll always be something about that guy that I just can't shake.

 **(-)(+)(-)(+)(-)(+)**

 _March 1997_

I walk through the doorway of Pic-A-Lilli's, perusing the dinner crowd for my friend. The aroma of fried chicken and hot sauce is overwhelming and almost stings my eyes and nose, but my mouth waters in the same moment. Pics is known for serving the best wings around. My gaze lands on a group of bikers at the bar and many Pineys, true Pine Barrens townsfolk, who are spread throughout the restaurant's seating area. It shouldn't be hard to find Rosalie, though, she'll be the only person not wearing leather or flannel. I spot her when she stands with a wave, and my stomach flips watching her date rise from the chair next to hers.

Holy. Shit. I can't believe I'm about to have dinner with Emmett McCarty. Please, Lord, don't let me act like a fool tonight.

I greet my girlfriend with a hug before she releases me, grinning. "Bella, this is Emmett. Emmett, Bella."

Without hesitating, Emmett wraps his arms around me. It's noteworthy that I don't hyperventilate while in the guy's embrace. "It's great to finally meet you," Emmett says, pulling back and giving my shoulders a squeeze. "I appreciate you making time for us during your spring break."

I have to stifle my giggles because the fact that Emmett McCarty is thanking me for spending time with _him_ is beyond hilarious. I really need to get over this, though. Rosalie says they're getting more serious about each other every day, so he's going to become a staple in my life. However, the fact remains that he's the quintessential gorgeous and popular guy from our years in Shawnee. We didn't run in the same circles, but it didn't change the bottom line that he'd been known as an icon in his class and the entire school. Rosalie teases him all the time that he was the "it" boy. He hates the thought and refuses to believe her. Apparently making him see the light is part of my task for the evening.

.

.

.

Four dozen wings and three pitchers of Killian's later, we're all getting along so well, it wouldn't shock me if we busted into song with the theme to "Three's Company." It seems like a fine time to bring to Emmett's attention that he was and is, in fact, stunning, and needs to accept that many females in high school were all sorts of twitterpated because of him.

"So, Emmett . . . I understand Rose has tried to bring you up to speed on the dynamics of Shawnee and its cliques."

"Here we go." He shakes his head, smiling. "Please don't embarrass me, Bella."

Rosalie and I burst into laughter. "I promise I'm not trying to embarrass you, but you were Emmett McCarty." I enunciate every syllable of his name, my index finger and thumb pinched together. " _Everyone_ knew who you were."

"Because I played soccer?" he asks in all seriousness.

I nod and continue. "Yes, that and because you are fucking fine as hell." There's a lag time of about two seconds between the end of my sentiment and my cringe-face. "Sorry, Rose."

"Pshhh, who're you telling?"

"Oh, my God," he says, his head lolling back, pounding his fist on the table.

I start laughing again, right along with Rosalie, while Emmett's cheeks redden and he can no longer blame the hot wings or alcohol. I take a few calming breaths, realizing that Emmett is really trying to understand, but he just doesn't see himself clearly. Or at least doesn't see himself as the majority of high schoolers did.

"Okay, to be honest. Your face was known because you were very attractive, yes. But you also were a soccer star. And you got like five of the fifteen "Best of" categories in the yearbook—"

"Uh huh! Uh huh!" Rosalie chimes in, waving her stalk of celery between us before dipping it in the blue cheese dressing. Emmett just rolls his eyes.

" _And_ you were a nice guy. Friendly to everyone. The face of student council, on all sorts of committees." I widen my arms and continue, "Everybody knew you."

"And all the girls wanted to do you," Rose adds, matter-of-factly.

"But I never asked for that," he argues. "You've got no idea how uncomfortable this all makes me." The tone in his voice indicates his sincerity. God, he's even perfect in his humbleness.

Rose sighs and rubs Emmett's shoulder. "Let me ask you a question, honey." He turns, giving her his full attention. "We know you didn't know me from a hole in the wall,"—she smiles obnoxiously while he makes a face—"but did you know Bella in high school?"

"Of course! Our senior year she was the junior field hockey goalie who brought them to the state finals and won there, too!" He reaches over and high-fives me. I happily oblige and allow the mugs of beer I've consumed to momentarily convince me to not wash my hand ever, ever, ever again.

"Yes, but before she was the talk of the town because of hockey, did you know her then?" She cocks her head. "Know that she's a singer? Was in the plays? Dated Ross Corning for eighteen months?"

"No, but I was a year ahead of her."

"Okay, let me put it this way," I interrupt, holding up my hand. "Maybe this'll make it easier to understand." I tip my head from side to side, choosing my words carefully. "Girls like the Sexy Six-Pack and their cronies . . . they looked down on everyone, but they happened to be the same girls who hung all over you."

He nods, his lips pursed. "They thought they were the shit," he agrees.

"Well, you and a handful of other guys in your grade and younger, still hung out with those girls but carried yourselves in a way that everyone wanted to be friends with _you_. The girls might've been wretched, but you and that handful of guys were like the Norm from _Cheers_ of Shawnee."

"It didn't make you a snob, and still doesn't," Rosalie reassures him. "But it proves that you were known and well-liked, especially by females. They kinda idolized you."

"Fine, I get it. I don't have to like it, but whatever." He drums his fingers on the table. "So, name other guys who were on this fictitious pedestal with me."

Rose holds up her fingers one at a time. "Garrett Brenner, Ralph DeLeo, Edward Cullen, Josh Webster . . ."

Emmett shakes his head. "All those guys would have the same reaction as me . . . especially Ed. He'd die if he knew you included his name."

"Well, maybe you should give him a call so we can sit him down for this talk, too," Rose says, laughing. "Unless, wait, this might not be his spring break week."

"He's not in school anymore." Emmett answers, raising his finger to flag down our server.

My brow furrows at the same time I readjust my posture. "You mean not at West Virginia?"

"No, he dropped out a while back."

Rosalie exchanges her look of confusion with mine of concern. The beers have me feeling fuzzy, but I know I'm hearing Emmett properly. _Edward dropped out of college?_

"Why didn't he finish?" Rose asks.

He shrugs, raising our empty pitcher for the waitress to bring another refill. "Dunno. He had his reasons, I guess. I'm a guy, you know we don't ask extra questions."

My stomach drops to the floor as Rosalie folds her arms, promising me with her eyes that she'll do some further investigation.

Hopefully, she'll find out as soon as possible. My head and heart don't have the capacity not to care about Edward and his well-being.

"Okay, let's move onto a subject that won't aggravate me anymore," Emmett says with a wink, grabbing the menu again. "Who's up for a brownie sundae?"

 **(+)(-)(+)(-)(+)(-)**

 _August 1999_

As I pull into Rosalie's driveway, it dawns on me that I'm like a supporting actor in a brat pack film. Every staple 80's movie: _Pretty in Pink, 16 Candles, The Breakfast Club . . ._ they all end with the unlikely pair coming out on top. Whether it's the boy or the girl who's the underdog, you cheer when the good guy wins.

And the good guy, aka Rosalie, definitely won this time. After dating each other exclusively for two years, Emmett proposed to her last fall. They're getting married in November. Our job tonight is to assemble and stuff the wedding invitations to get them to the post office by the weekend.

"Thank God you're here," Rosalie screeches, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. She smells like wine, and it makes me laugh. "My mother's driving me up a wall already." Pulling me by the hands through the doorway, she bobbles a bit as we make our entrance into the dining room. "Hey ladies, Bella's here!"

I greet Mrs. Hale and Marisa, Rosalie's girlfriend from grade school. I have to admit that a few butterflies flutter in my gut when I meet Emmett's mom for the first time. This is THE woman who's responsible for bringing the ultimate cute boy into our lives. I feel like I should offer her a fruit basket of thanks at the very least.

.

.

.

After an hour of work and a few glasses of wine, I'm feeling extra giddy. I'm also convinced Mrs. McCarty—Shirley—is my new best friend. While the ladies on the other side of the table are assembling and stuffing, Shirley and I have been assigned to write the names on the inside envelopes and address and stamp the outside envelopes. Apparently we have the best handwriting of the group.

Yet another reason why Shirley is my home girl.

"Oh, Edward Cullen's next on my list!" she announces and my spine stiffens. "He was always such a sweetie. What's he been up to all these years, Roe?"

"Last I knew, he was delivering for a mechanics supply company."

"He never finished school?" Shirley's saddened tone matches the one I had the first time I heard this story.

Rosalie shakes her head, taking a sip from her wine. "Em said he was stressed at school. He never went into detail with me though, and I never pushed. I don't know if Edward ever confided in him more. They haven't seen each other in a while. I think they only talk every couple of months or so, if that . . . everybody seems so busy with life these days."

My shoulders slump, my fun buzz suddenly dulled by the latest topic. I hate that Edward never finished college. What could've stressed him out so much that he had to drop out? He was always a very good student, and he knew how to let loose and have fun. It seemed like an ideal amount of both sides of the coin to make the most out of the college experience. I wish he and I were still close enough that I could track him down and ask what went wrong.

"Is he dating anybody?" Shirley asks, shifting gears a bit while she addresses the outside envelope. "Guest or no guest, Roe?"

"NO GUEST!"

 _Whoops, that was me._ Apparently my verbal filter vacated the premises a glass or two of Cabernet ago.

The ladies all turn to stare at my outburst at the same moment Rosalie snorts and face-plants into her invitations, laughing like a hyena. "I don't think he's dating anyone." Rosalie manages to answer her future mother-in-law after calming her hysterics. "Bella . . ."—she giggles my name—"I take it you'd rather he not be invited with a guest."

I line up the wedding ring stamp in the top right corner, trying to act nonchalant. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble."

Shirley nudges me with her elbow and winks. "No guest it is. We'll make sure he's in need of a dancing partner that night. You just be ready to knock his socks off."

My new best friend, Shirley McCarty, needs to be on speed dial for pep talks in the future. This lady rocks.

"Oh, I'll be ready."

 **(+)(-)(+)(-)(+)(-)**

 _November 1999_

"Isabella, you look like a tall glass of wine." Mr. Hale greets me at the door, looking dapper in his tuxedo. "Rosalie's just about ready."

"Thank you!" I squeal, pecking his cheek after walking through the doorway. "Although your tall compliment might be a little over the top. Even in these three-inch heels, I'm still only 5'5."

"Good to the last drop, dear."

Any other fifty-eight-year-old man who said that to me would have me cringing in disgust. Ronald Hale, however, is completely harmless and always cracks me up. "Have you been drinking already?" I step toward the landing for the stairs.

"I may have had a cocktail or two. Little girl's getting married, kiddo."

His eyes are glassy with the emotions of the day. "I can dig it. Save me a dance later?" I ask while he heads toward the kitchen.

"You bet!"

I turn the corner when I reach the top of the steps and find Rosalie in her bedroom doorway, her smile beaming ear to ear.

"You're gorgeous!" We shout in unison to each other and then burst out laughing. "Jinx!" More laughter.

Her sleeveless gown is heavy, white satin with a delicate rope embroidery around the empire waist. She's wearing matching gloves that stretch up past her elbows, and the wine-colored roses she's grasping match the burgundy of my similarly-styled, sleeveless gown perfectly.

"Can you stand this weather?" I start, pulling the satin out so that I can fawn over the elegant train that fans out behind her. "Seventy-three degrees in the middle of November. It's sunny and warm to go with your perfect, fairy tale, John Hughes wedding!"

We giggle again, exchanging the same looks we've been sharing ever since she started dating Emmett. The hot, popular boy and the girl he never even knew existed are getting hitched. And the bride is one of my dearest friends.

"I just hope some of the buffoons we used to roll our eyes at back in the day don't act like complete fools again. I don't think I'll ever get used to some of the people Em considers his close friends." She shakes her head. "They still act like drunken idiots even though we left high school over seven years ago."

I wave her off as I reapply some lipstick, hearing her mom bellowing that the photographer is pulling into the driveway. "It'll be awesome. I just hope I keep my cool next to the hottie you've got walking me down the aisle. Leave it to Emmett McCarty to make only the best-looking friends in college. Remind me to kiss your soon-to-be-hubby later."

"Tyler was a total player in college," Rosalie warns with a cocked brow. "Tall, dark and handsome aside, do NOT let him charm the dress off you tonight, hear me?"

I snort. "Yes, Mom. Remember that my sole focus today is on Mr. Cullen." It's been six years since I've seen that boy, only living vicariously through Rosalie's descriptions from the couple of times she's seen Edward over the last three years.

"Well, his RSVP said he'd be here. Everything's coming together," she says, winking.

I bite my lip and wiggle my eyebrows, giddy with the thought that I'm getting a second chance—or is it twenty-second after all our history?—with Edward. Unable to delay another minute, I pray our limo driver has a lead foot.

I smack my hands together. "Let's go get you married, sister!"

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N:** **All my love and thanks to my rockin' team of prereaders: Born, Cejsmom and Lay . . . and my fantabulous beta, LaMomo. Couldn't do this without them. Thank you all so, so much for reading and especially to those who've taken the time to leave me your thoughts in a review. It means so much to know you're connecting with the story and its characters.**

 **See you next Friday!**

 **xo, Jen**


	8. Chapter 8

**(+)(-)(+)Far Away Flame(-)(+)(-)**

 _November 1999, wedding day, continued . . ._

After all the bridesmaids serenade Rosalie with two choruses of "Going to the Chapel of Love," she shushes us when our limo pulls into the parking lot of the church.

"I see him!" she squeals, climbing across the seat to get a better look out the tinted window behind me. "Holy shit, I knew he'd look hot in that silver vest and tie."

When the groomsmen see our car arrive, they usher Emmett inside.

We step out of the limo, one by one, allowing the photographer to snap as many pictures as possible. It's probably the closest I'll come to knowing what it's like for a Hollywood star to be stalked by the paparazzi. The mid-afternoon sun beams a spectacular set of rays through a cloud passing over our group. It seems more than appropriate for such a joyful day.

The other bridesmaids and I file into the vestibule to welcome some straggling guests as well as Emmett's parents and all the grandparents. Shirley McCarty gives me a wink, tilting her head toward the groom's side of the cathedral just before Frank—Emmett's dad—escorts her down the aisle. My stomach is riddled with butterflies in an instant, assuming she and I are on the same page.

 _The Edward Cullen page._

Doing the best I can to avoid scanning the crowd, I take my place in the procession. I remind myself that this day is about my beautiful friend. My love life, or serious lack thereof, needs to be a distant second. I'll see Edward and all the other supporting characters from the John Hughes wedding at the reception. The organ piping in Pachelbel's "Canon in D" surrounds us, and a rush of excitement races through me. My runway mantra tears through my mind: shoulders back, boobs out, chin up, and smile for Rosalie and her celebration.

Today is a great day.

.

.

.

Rosalie and Emmett chose to do a Catholic ceremony rather than an hour-long mass, so we're back outside, celebrating and throwing birdseed twenty-five minutes later. I weave my way in and around the crowd that's already gone through the receiving line, greeting guests before they head toward their cars to travel to the reception, which is about a half-hour away from the church.

I haven't spotted Edward yet, but there are almost two hundred people milling about, so I attempt to keep the anxious feelings fluttering in my belly to a minimum. I'll get my chance to say hello once we're at the country club.

At one point, Rosalie flags me down, and I scoot back over to the line. Her expression isn't one of a glowing bride.

"What's up?"

She turns her head away from the guests to whisper. "Edward's not alone."

My brow crinkles and I look around. "Huh?"

"He brought a fucking guest!" she hisses. "He was invited as a single, replied 'yes' as a single, and yet . . ." She flicks her arm in the direction of the parking lot.

I'm sure my expression mirrors hers. My thoughts race faster than my stomach sinks before I manage to find my words. "You've gotta be kidding me."

I have one damn chance to spend time alone with him after all these years, and he bucks the system and brings a date? Hello? Can't he at least follow simple instructions?

My gaze ping-pongs over the crowd until I find Edward lingering near the limo, joking with some of his former soccer buddies. Next to him stands a _Sports Illustrated_ swimsuit supermodel.

I may barf.

Nice that she at least had the decency to put something on, instead of the Budweiser-sponsored string bikini I'm sure was her second choice and Edward's first. She went for the little black dress, emphasis on little. Edward's laughing and smiling, his hair is cut short and he's looking gorgeous as ever in a chocolate brown suit, cream-colored dress shirt, and brown tie. His hand rests on the small of her back, his fingers extended and stroking her . . . and it makes me seethe just a little.

They look comfortable together.

They look happy together.

They look fucking _perfect_ together.

I grit my teeth and talk myself in off the ledge, attempting to refocus on Rosalie's day. Whether or not it makes me a bad person, I'm thanking the merciful Lord above for the five-hour, top shelf, open bar in my very near future.

.

.

.

As miserable as I was leaving the church earlier, I'm feeling no pain right now. Though I internally rolled my eyes at Edward's stupidity—not to mention rudeness at bringing an uninvited guest—drinking some, okay lots of champagne in the limo has helped quite a bit. Taking pictures with Rosalie, Emmett and the rest of the wedding party is a blast. We came to a scenic park in Mount Laurel, filled with the oranges, reds and yellows of the transitional season. The photographer takes a couple of shots of Emmett and his buddies holding bottles of beer, kicking around a soccer ball. Then, each groomsman scoops up the bridesmaid he's paired with, and it makes for some fun-loving group photos. We laugh and joke with each other, and I manage not to make a fool of myself in front of some of the hottest guys we went to high school with back in the day. Once we're finished, we pile back in the limousine and head to the country club to party the night away.

After making it through all the formalities at the reception, we're finally enjoying our dinner. I'm sitting next to Tyler, Emmett's best man and fraternity brother who walked me down the aisle. He's hot as hell with brown hair, blue eyes, and dimples that rival Emmett's, _and_ he's been acting like I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread ever since we took pictures together in the park. I'd say it's the innumerable flutes of champagne I'm consuming, which bring me to this logical and modest conclusion . . . but he really is digging me, flirtatious banter and all. And at this point, anything that keeps me from looking at the table across the dance floor is a bonus.

Edward can't keep his hands off Miss Hawaiian Tropic, which is bad enough in and of itself. Taking the ick to the next level, though, he's been up and dancing with her whenever possible. Like seriously? "Runaround Sue," "Walking on Sunshine," "Livin' La Vida Loca". . . it doesn't matter what record the DJ spins, Edward's tossing her around the dance floor like the _Solid Gold_ dancers we grew up watching . . . all that's missing is their matching sparkly, purple spandex outfits.

I have to keep looking down at my bare arms to make sure the pea green shade from the envy coursing through me hasn't seeped to the surface.

I mean, honestly. Did they study under Patrick Swayze and Cynthia Rhodes before debuting tonight?

"C'mon, time to hit the dance floor, beautiful." Tyler extends his hand and pulls me out of my chair into his broad chest. "Let's show them how it's done."

I don't think I've had quite enough champagne for this. "They just served cake!" _Solid argument, Isabella Marie._

"Dance first, cake later." He winks and it's a little swoon-worthy, so what's a girl to do?

Like it was planned, the unmistakable drum beats of "Sing, Sing, Sing" pave our way through the crowd as he twirls me onto the floor. Thankfully, there are more than a dozen other folks dancing, grouped together in threes and fours. It seems that Tyler and I are the only pair at the moment.

I glance in Edward's direction and find he has a curious smile while staring straight at me.

Instead of taking the obnoxious path and thinking _game on,_ I decide to immerse myself in this moment with my dancing partner. At the very least, I deserve this pleasure.

Tyler and I manage to transport ourselves to the '40s as he swings and flips me around like we're two kids testing the limits with our naughty moves at the sock hop. We go nonstop for the entire length of the song. Sweaty and borderline breathless, he pulls me close as the craziness transitions into "From This Moment On." When I rest my head against his shoulder and his right arm wraps around my waist, it doesn't feel forced. It's a pretty perfect moment.

.

.

.

Though Tyler occupied my time earlier in the evening, it's odd that I haven't seen him for a while. No big deal, though. Dancing with friends, socializing with the families and old classmates, plus swooning over Emmett's gorgeous buddies, who've continued to age like fine wine, has kept me plenty busy tonight. Edward disappeared a while ago. I shudder to think of him somewhere getting busy with his date, but it is what it is. I wish I could've gotten some alone time with him tonight, but it just wasn't in the cards.

After a quick trip to the ladies' room to check that my professionally-applied makeup is still doing its job, I meander back toward the ballroom just as my name is called.

"Bella, come—c'mere." Rosalie waves frantically from the French doors to the patio. When I'm within grabbing distance, she yanks me close and points to the vicinity of the eighteenth hole. "Look at this shit. It's about to go down."

"What is?" I squint into the darkness and realize I'm staring at Edward's date and Tyler, sharing a bench that overlooks the green. My left eyebrow rises in slow motion; they're acting mighty cozy.

Instinctually, I'm not worried about my now-failed, possible hook-up with hottie Tyler the swing king, who, less than two hours ago was acting like I hung the moon and stars, but I'm wondering why Edward's girl has no problem walking away from _her_ date and instead clings to mine-ish.

"You need to get out there." Rosalie's words bring me back into focus. "I saw Edward a minute ago, and he was fired up."

"About?"

She clicks her tongue and whisper-shouts, "About his whore of a date who's been anywhere but by his side for the last hour."

"Are they boyfriend-girlfriend?"

She starts pushing me out of the grand lobby toward Edward, who's coming in from the parking lot. "What the fuck does it matter now? Tyler and his slutty ways are clearly putting a serious crimp in Edward's style."

Though Rosalie warned me back at her house about Tyler's womanizing during his college years, I'm going to place the blame more on the one who actually _had_ a date to this wedding. Edward's girl is the one at fault, here. No contest.

"All right, all right." I find my footing and march toward Edward with a smile plastered on my face. We've been at this wedding since three in the afternoon, and I'm only now greeting him, less than an hour before the reception is over.

"Hi!" I go for bright and cheery.

"Hey, stranger. You're certainly a sight for sore eyes." Edward's voice is like the purr of a jungle cat. _Sexy as hell_. Without any hesitation, he leans in for a kiss. I assume he's aiming for my cheek, but instead he plants his lips at the corner of my mouth. A few centimeters to my left and my eighth grade Slambook's ultimate wish would've been fulfilled: _get a real kiss from Edward Cullen._ He seems stone-cold sober, so I'm counting this one as a win. "You're looking spectacular tonight. Sorry I'm just getting a chance to talk to you now. It's been a hectic night in such a huge crowd." I can tell he's distracted, but he's trying to be genuine. And the kiss? Well, I'm not going to complain.

"That's okay," I reassure, waving him off. "I've been wrapped up in my maid-of-honor duties this whole time." I reach for his hand and turn him toward the ballroom, away from the strumpet who's stolen my escort for the evening. "How're things? You look great." I doubt we'll delve into why he dropped out of college, but I give it an innocent try anyway. "So, what've you been up to ever since we left Shawnee behind?"

He looks over his shoulder, nostrils flaring, but forces himself to smile and answer my question. "Yeah, I'm not bad. Keeping busy locally, working for South Jersey Auto Parts."

We find a sofa in the hall and attempt to settle in. I do my best not to poke at his response about the auto supply job or the how's and why's regarding him not sticking with college. Tonight's not the right time, and it's obvious I'm not doing a very good job of distracting him.

"Trying to figure out how I get myself into these shitty relationships." He mumbles while rubber-necking to find his date, I assume. "Would you excuse me for a minute?" He leaps out of his seat and stomps toward the doorway where Tyler and the girl have just appeared. I waste no time and quickly follow behind.

"Are you done yet?" Edward says with a growl, approaching her. "Just give him your number already so we can get outta here."

My stomach sinks because I can hear the pain in Edward's voice. And he mentioned a relationship to me three seconds ago. Did his girlfriend seriously just cheat on him? To his face?

"Listen, bro," Tyler responds, "Leah and I were just—"

"Don't fuckin' _'bro'_ me, dude. You don't know me. But apparently you do know my date, here." Edward advances on Tyler and I spring into action.

"Okay, hang on, hang on . . ." I press my hand against Tyler's chest, stepping in front of Edward. "Let's stay calm, here."

"Bella, you should get your date out of my face." Edward's breath is so warm on the back of my neck. I've never seen or heard him this angry before. I shouldn't be enjoying the sexiness, I really shouldn't, and this is hardly the time for knee-buckling.

I flash Tyler a dirty look. "He's definitely not my date, but yeah, Tyler." I jerk my head to the side. "We should get back to the reception. See if Em and Rose need anything before things shut down for the night."

Wrapping my arm around Tyler's elbow, I pull us aside to let Edward and the hooch work out their issues. I don't know where my moxie comes from, but it kicks into high gear as we make our way further into the lobby. "You seriously couldn't just exchange numbers quietly and leave it at that? She was his date for God's sake!"

"What are you, his mother?" Tyler laughs. "All we did was talk."

The bitter words flying behind us between Edward and Leah are unmistakable.

Tyler stops walking and turns back. I shadow him, hoping this doesn't lead to flying fists. An elegant wedding turned Jerry Springer sideshow would seriously be in poor taste, not to mention devastate Rosalie.

"No, it's fine, fine! Stay here till it's over," Edward shouts. "He's taking you home, too?"

There's a hopeful look in Leah's eyes as she seeks out Tyler and he nods, stepping forward. "Sure. I can give you a ride."

My jaw drops while I stare at Tyler like he's grown a third eye. Does no one have scruples anymore? I shift my gaze to Edward, seeing his pain behind the anger. I feel so embarrassed for him. Understandably, his change in posture shows he wants to be anywhere but here.

Leah moves close to Edward, speaking quietly in his ear. He stares blankly beyond her shoulder and turns, walking toward the parking lot without another word.

Instinct propels me to race walk toward Edward. _To say what?_

"Hey, umm." Not an impressive start, but I figure our shared history has him give me a second glance though he continues to make his way to his car. "Are you okay?"

I get no response; we just keep moving.

After walking the next three rows in silence, we're at his car and he slips his key into the lock. "Not really in the mood to talk, sorry."

"No, it's fine. I'm just . . ." I shake my head, at a loss. "I apologize for the scene back there."

Edward shrugs. "Not your fault," he mumbles. "I'm sure she and I'll work it out tomorrow; no big deal." He laughs it off, but the emptiness in his eyes makes me wonder if he'll ever hear from her again. Maybe they weren't serious? "Anyway, I'm sorry she took off with your date."

"Oh, he really wasn't my date. Emmett and Rosalie paired us up to walk down the aisle and do the bridal party dance together, that's it. We only met last night at the rehearsal dinner."

Edward cocks his head. "You seemed pretty in tune with each other while you were dancing tonight. Figured there was more there."

I scoff, attempting to play it cool. "We had fun dancing, as I imagine you did with—"

"HA!" He chuckles some more after his outburst but then adds, "Touché. Guess we shouldn't be judging books and all that."

I give him a sad smile and scrounge around in my brain to salvage this poor guy's ego. "Wanna go for coffee or something? I really feel bad about"—I point my thumb over my shoulder—"whatever it is that just went on."

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't be very good company right now. Maybe another time?"

Ahh, the thanks but no thanks brush-off. "Sure."

"Here, let me get your number." I try not to react with any demonstrative facial expressions while my heart skips a hopeful beat. But just like the old days, nervous knots form like pretzels in my belly over this man; my untouchable flame that only ever licked at my skin when I was lucky enough to get close. Somebody get the defibrillator, I'm going down.

Edward reaches into his glove compartment, grabs a pen and tears a piece of paper off what looks like a receipt. I scribble my number down avoiding the overwhelming urge to surround the digits with hearts and flowers.

"714?" He scoffs. "I've never heard of this exchange before. Medford's _always_ been 654. You givin' me a bogus number?" he asks, chuckling.

I'm horrified. "No, of course not!"

"My heart's been put through a blender tonight, Bella. Be straight with me; you sure this isn't the 10-digit shuffle?"

His sweet nature still makes me smile after all these years. "I promise it's the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

"Okay." That crooked, shy smile appears as he lifts one leg into his car. "If you say so."

I step away from his car before things get more awkward than they already have for the evening and give him a half-wave. "Drive safely."

"Will do. I'll uhhh,"—he holds up the scrap of paper—"I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

.

.

.

"Well, what the hell are _you_ doing here?" I can't hold back the one A.M. snark while addressing Tyler, who's miraculously sitting on the couch at Emmett's parents' house. "You gave us all the slip at the end of the reception. Figured you were already dining at the Y over at the Track and Turf Motel on 38." _Zing and zing. Well done, me._ I drop the box I was carting on the dining room table. "Where's the pin-up?"

Tyler huffs, his dimples deepening if that's even possible. "She had a change of heart, so I took her home."

I roll my eyes and start to unload the framed pictures of Rosalie and Emmett we'd set up in the lobby of the country club. "She should apply for sainthood."

Tyler gets up and grabs the other carton Emmett's little brother just dropped inside the foyer. After walking over to the table, he plops the box down and begins to sift through it next to me. I side-eye him, giving off my best silent treatment, trying to hide the "I thought we were hitting it off tonight while dancing" hurt feelings I brushed aside over an hour ago.

Apparently he can't stand the cold shoulder. "What? I can be a decent guy."

"Decent meaning you getting off your ass and emptying that box, or decent meaning dropping the girl off when she changed her mind?"

"Both. I could sense her guilt when she started confessing how much she cares about that dude and what he's been through. I actually felt a little sick to my stomach _for_ her."

Cry me a river. "I bet Shirley has some TUMS upstairs."

"Ouch!" Tyler cringes, holding his heart.

Yeah, pretty certain we reached DEFCON two of biting retorts with that one, but my heart hurts hearing the phrase, 'what he's been through.' What _has_ Edward been through? I fucking wish I knew already.

"Bella, listen." Tyler reaches out, putting his hand on my forearm. "I'm really not that bad; let me prove it to you. And we were having some fun earlier, right?"

" _Were_ being the operative word. Until I became old news when compared to Leah." I shrug while my brain runs a mile a minute and my feelings are all over the place after tonight's drama. No, Tyler wasn't my date and didn't owe me anything, so logic tells me that my hurt bunny attitude needs to be checked at the door. Yes, pursuing a night cap with Tyler could be fun, but do I really want to play second fiddle here? And then there's Edward. Not that I was planning on sitting next to the phone tomorrow, but now that Leah's questionable conscience kicked in, I doubt he'll call.

"Who's driving me and Rosie to the hotel?" Emmett bellows from the front door. "Y2K is coming, my honeymoon suite is calling me, and that flight to Aruba leaves damn early! I need some action and my beauty rest, people!"

Tyler and I laugh as he grabs his keys from the table. "Well, I guess I'm outta here." He turns to walk away. "Unless . . ." Trailing off, he swings his body around to me again. "Any chance at all you'd want to keep me company so I don't have to hear the newlyweds slobbering all over each other in the back seat?"

I stop sorting through pictures and meet his gaze.

"I'll even take you to a diner afterward for that slice of cake you were about to enjoy before I so rudely pulled you out onto the dance floor."

I nibble on the inside of my cheek, tapping my French-manicured nails on the table in deliberation. _Oh, am I gonna make you work for this, buddy._ "I do like cake," I offer.

He smiles and jerks his head toward the door. "Let's go for a ride, then."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N:** **Loving all of your reviews and theories. As you can see, Edward isn't married, and I promise he didn't drop out of college because he got someone pregnant and had to support a child. All of Edward's back story will be revealed after the "present day" chapters start rolling, so, unfortunately, you'll have to keep guessing just like I did in real life. Two more chapters to read, and then we'll be at "present day," so, hang in there! It'll be worth it once we arrive and get the whole story. It'll be a 5-year time jump ahead for the next chapter. 2004, here we come!**

 **Thanks for reading! See you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	9. Chapter 9

**(+)(+)(+)Far Away Flame(+)(+)(+)**

 _Almost five years later . . . March 2004_

" _Hey, babe."_

"Hi! Safe on the ground?" I make a stink face at the bare pantry in my parents' kitchen and close the door just before my cell slips from between my ear and shoulder. "Sorry, hello?"

" _Yeah, I'm here. Got in about twenty minutes ago. Em and I are killing time at the airport till Zimmer lands. Probably grab a beer and some nachos or something."_

"Sounds good. When do the rest of the guys arrive?" I ask, leaning against the counter.

" _Later tonight. We'll meet them at the Bellagio before we hit the strip."_

"Did you say hit the stripper?" My snickering can't be contained. My fiancé knows I'm teasing, but he'll play along.

 _"Yes. We plan to beat up a few strippers after we lure them into our high-rollers' den of iniquity."_

"I don't doubt it." I snort. "Well, be safe."

" _You too. No swimming in the ocean by yourself this weekend."_

"Funny guy. As far as I know none of the girls plan to join the Polar Bear Club, so we're good. Maybe a brisk walk on the beach, but that's about it for this bachelorette celebration. We'll be partying East-Coast-in-March-style: indoors at casinos and clubs."

" _Okay. Have fun. I'll check in with you tomorrow."_

"Okie dokie."

 _"Love you, baby."_

"Love you, too." I slide my cell on the kitchen table and open the freezer in the hopes of finding a Lean Cuisine or something. I'm only at my parents' for an overnight pit stop. They're not here right now, so I'm not surprised there's zilch available in food selection. Now that my parents are retired, they live the life of snow birds and spend the hard winter months in Florida in a fifty-five-and-older community in Ocala.

By the end of March, they make their way back up to Jersey and the pool waiting for them in their backyard. Unfortunately, I rarely get to enjoy the pool during the summer. Tyler and I have been living in Atlanta ever since we got engaged last year, although he'd been there for years, working in Coca-Cola's marketing department. I transferred quite easily from the nursing home in New Jersey to another facility owned by the same company.

We've been staying in his two-bedroom apartment while our dream house is being built outside the city in Alpharetta. We hope we've timed it right so that it's move-in ready after we return from our honeymoon in late April. It made sense for us to have our bachelor and bachelorette celebration a few weeks ahead of time because once we get back home, it's crunch time with final wedding preparations.

I head outside to the garage, making a last-ditch effort to find something edible in the deep freezer. Sitting on top are four, 36-count packages of toilet paper, and inside I find two bags of shelled walnuts and approximately seventeen pounds of butter. I surmise that my parents are either preparing for a dysentery outbreak or at least counting on the fact that they'll be just fine during the zombie apocalypse if they barter their toilet paper and butter for other supplies.

So much for finding something to cook.

 _Crap._ It's after nine; Murphy's is closed, and I have no energy to schlep the twenty minutes out to Marlton to Shoprite only to have to come back here and prepare a meal.

It's been a long-ass day, between a full caseload of care conferences at work and then the flight to Philly . . . not to mention the forty-five-minute drive out to Mom and Dad's. I have zero energy but plenty of money in my pocket to burn through, considering the weekend's events.

"Screw it. I need chicken fingers, fries, and a beer. I'm a big girl; I can eat alone." I grab my keys and lock up, figuring the only restaurant in our tiny town will satisfy all three of my cravings.

.

.

.

"Welcome to PJ Whelihans. How many tonight?"

"Oh, it's just me," I say, unwrapping the scarf from my neck. "I'll just sit at the bar if that's okay."

"Absolutely!" The chipper hostess continues to squeak. "Here's a menu."

I smile and take it from her. "Thanks."

It's fairly rowdy for a random Thursday in March, but I imagine that's due to the college basketball playoffs on all the big screens. I'm a little overdressed in my pink dress shirt, black slacks and heels, but that's okay. I don't mind sticking out among the sweatshirts and jerseys. Once I settle in at the bar, my head is tipped down while I'm studying the menu.

"Let me know when you're ready to—"

My eyes bug out as I snap my head up in shock.

"—order."

I can't help but beam at the mirage of a man who manages to disappear and reappear in my life at the most unexpected times.

"Bella?"

My gaze darts down to my hands; the glimmer of the diamond sitting on my ring finger causing me to sigh. _Perfect timing, as usual._ I look back up at him. "Of all the gin joints, right?"

He leans across the bar, smacking a kiss at the corner of my mouth. "Something like that." Straightening back up, he shakes his head; his grin matching mine. "Man, how the hell _are_ you? What's it been? Three, four years?"

I swallow the lump in my throat because I wish the universe would just get him away from me forever . . . but the thought of a world without Edward Cullen somewhere in it makes my chest hurt. "It'll be five in November." _But who's counting?_

"That's right!" Edward's eye catches the customer at the end of the bar who's flagging him down. "Be right back."

I smile and stare blankly at the menu again. _How does this shit always happen to me_? When I'm off on my own, living a satisfying Edward-free life, the heavens see fit to drop him on my doorstep again without preamble. How many more times will he and I find ourselves reconnecting?

His hair is even shorter than it was at Rosalie's wedding. It doesn't look bad. It's just funny to see him like this, considering he always had a full head of strawberry-brown hair when we were growing up. Now it's so short, he looks like he's ready for boot camp or something. He nods and smiles at a patron who's waving some cash at him. Dressed in dark jeans and a forest green button-down shirt, with a dish towel draped over his shoulder and that familiar sparkle I see in his eye, I realize he's never looked more gorgeous.

 _Well played, universe . . . oh, and go fuck yourself while you're at it._

Edward steps back over to me. "We've _got_ to catch up, but first, what can I get for you?"

"I came in looking for a Redd's," I chuckle, "but I'm thinking I need something stronger. How 'bout a Cosmo?"

"You got it."

Two minutes later, he puts a napkin down and places the glass in front of me while I slide him a ten dollar bill. After ringing up the sale, he plunks down my change.

"Wow, that's good," I say, trying not to moan the words. "Thank you."

He winks and leans his elbows on the bar. "So how long're you in town? I didn't think your parents lived in the Lakes anymore."

"They're here nine months out of the year. They fly south every winter."

"Good for them. My parents actually headed west to Arizona a couple years ago, but they're out there full time. I'm taking care of the house since they decided not to sell." He gives a head nod to the waitress who shouted an order at him. "How's Jasper?"

"Really good, actually. He's down in Florida, a few hours from Mom and Dad's second home. He partnered up with a couple of friends, and they run a catamaran party cruise out of Panama City."

His head falls back in laughter. "That's so Jasper. Bet he's swimming in the ladies."

"Oh, yeah. My parents gave him the 'don't bring home a pregnant spring breaker' speech years ago." Edward laughs along with me and slides two wine glasses off the overhead rack. "How's Embry doing?"

"Aww, he's outstanding. Plays for the Galaxy out in L.A.," he boasts, popping tops off three Coronas.

"Professional soccer?" I squeak like an idiot. "Holy crap, I had no idea! That's incredible!"

Edward's million-dollar smile is every indication of how proud he is of his little brother. "It really is." He puts a finger up to the waitress who called out to him earlier. "I've gotta fill this order. But I'll keep an eye on you. Need something to eat?"

"To soak up this alcohol? Hell, yes," I giggle. "Some chicken fingers and fries?"

"Done. Be back in a bit."

I sip my drink, flipping through the table tent that advertises all the drink specials and desserts. When I pull my change back to stash it in my pocket, I realize Edward broke my ten dollar bill and gave me back a five, four ones and four quarters.

 _Free drink? Hmmm . . ._

Ten minutes later, he walks over to me with a steaming skillet in his hand. "Be careful and use the cover on the handle. This sucker's hot."

"Thanks . . . umm." I point to my change and quirk my brow. "Was there a miscalcula—"

"Nope." He cuts me off with a wave. "Ready for another?"

I purse my lips together. "Yeah."

After another forty-five minutes, a Malibu Bay Breeze, a second Cosmo, and my dinner, I'm feeling no pain. Not that I'm ready to fall from my barstool, but it's time to cut myself off. Every time I pass Edward money for a drink, he exchanges it for basically the equal amount. At one point, I thought I made money on the deal, but maybe that was just the second Cosmo fuzzing up my math skills.

Physically, I'm ready to call it a night. Emotionally, I can't bring myself to walk out knowing Edward's in this building, and we've barely scratched the surface with each other.

"You good?" he asks, making change at the register in front of me. "That second one went down pretty nicely, huh?"

"Too nicely." I agree, groaning. "I'm debating whether I should get an apple crisp to soak up the blue kamikaze shooter you also forced on me."

"Hey, rule of the house. When Duke wins, we do a shot."

"Is the owner a Duke fan?"

"Nahh, but the Sterlings are." He points out a party of about a dozen people whooping it up at a table next to the bar. "Whenever Duke gets through to the next round, they buy the house a shot."

My eyes widen. "Wow."

"Yeah," he chuckles. "So listen, I'm done here around 11:30 . . . any chance you'd wanna grab a cup of coffee or something? So we can actually have a conversation where I'm not being pulled away every twenty seconds? Aside from the fact that I don't want you driving anywhere right now."

I glance at my watch to see that it's just shy of eleven at the same moment my engagement ring feels a bit heavier on my finger. Having a cup of coffee with someone else won't change my love for Tyler. Trust has never been an issue for us. Even though this is Edward, who at one time—or most of my young life—I wished was more than a friend.

While I'm gnawing on the inside of my cheek, my phone buzzes with a text: _All the guys made it, baby. Heading out for the night. Love you so much. Sweet dreams._

My internal war calms as the picture becomes crystal clear. There's nothing to worry about here. Edward—my old friend—is asking to spend a little more time with me. I don't know when this opportunity will ever present itself again. I owe it to myself to try to answer some of the questions that've plagued me for years and put these dusty feelings to rest.

"Sure. I can hang till you're done."

.

.

.

"Thanks for waiting." He holds the door open for me and we head toward the parking lot.

"No problem."

He jerks his head to the left. "My truck's over here."

The twenty-nine-year-old that I am tells me to chill the fuck out, we're adults who spent time together as kids; no need to alert the media. But who can hear her sensible argument when the thirteen-year-old in me is squealing that she's going to be in a car, driven by Edward Cullen, going for a coffee date?

There'll be no living with _her_ now.

"Know what?" Edward says, passing Lenape Trail. "Let's just grab a coffee and head back to the Lakes. No sense in us heading out to a diner if we can just hit Wawa."

"No argument from me. I've been craving Tastykakes for months now."

.

.

.

"How's this?" Edward pulls into the parking lot across from Beach One and Vaughn Hall. "Wanna go sit in the pavilion? If it gets too cold, we can just come back in here and warm up."

"Yeah. Let's do it."

The moon is high; its bright reflection streaks the lake like a line down the middle of a soccer field. The water ripples in the breeze, dancing around like the nerves in my stomach.

Once we settle in next to each other on the bench, silence takes over as we sip from our steaming cardboard cups. Eventually, I look over at him and he catches my gaze with a smile.

"I miss this place."

"You live here."

He shrugs. "I do, but it's not the same. Not like when we were growing up and just rode our bikes everywhere with only a handful of destinations at our disposal. I miss when things were so easy and all we had on our minds were school, camp, the beach, Riv . . ." he trails off.

"Riviera." My head tips back. "God, I miss that restaurant. I need to grab a slice before I leave town tomorrow afternoon. I can't find any decent New York-style pizza places in Georgia, and I've been looking for almost a year."

"That sucks. But at least you're out and about in the world like the rest of the gang we went to school with."

I'm not sure why, but I detect an air of sadness, even regret in Edward's statement. I attempt to dive further. "Do you ever see anybody else around the area?"

"Things pick up around homecoming and Thanksgiving. I guess some parents must've stuck around."

I'm desperate to find out all that's happened in his life for the last eleven years, but I'm hardly Dr. Phil, and somehow I doubt we have that kind of time, so I start off easy. "How long have you worked at PJ's?"

He pulls his cup away from his lips. "Since it opened last year. I got tired of driving around all the time for the auto place."

I nod. "I remember you said that's where you worked when we saw each other at Rosalie and Emmett's wedding."

"Ugh. Don't remind me," he murmurs, rolling his eyes.

"About the job or the wedding?"

"The wedding, definitely. What a fuckup of a night that turned out to be."

My nervous giggling makes him smile while my stomach lurches. I'm really not sure when the right time would be to mention that the guy I'm about to marry is the same jackass who tried to steal his date for the night.

"I take it things didn't work out with that Leah girl?"

He makes a face. "Not at all. I'm sure she's off screwing up someone else's world right now. Maybe she hooked back up with the same guy she took off with that night." He shakes his head, reaching for the Tasty Klair Pie he bought. "What a tool he was."

"Yeah. That's my fiancé." _I guess now works_.

Edward's stare locks on mine as his stunned silence morphs into a chuckle or two, then rolls into full blown belly laughs. I've got nothing better to do than fall down the rabbit hole of hysterics with him.

"When I said 'tool,' I meant me." He's wheezing through his words and banging his hand on the bench while I'm wiping the tears running down my cheeks. "Well, that's just jim-dandy." We calm our laughter and he clears his throat. "Now, wait a minute, you told me you weren't together that night."

I shrug, feeling sheepish. "Well, we weren't. All we did was walk down the aisle together and do some dancing. But then at the end of the night, I found him sitting in Emmett's living room all alone, having _not_ hooked up with your date."

Edward looks like he's holding back, but he's never been the kind to spout off cruelly, so I continue.

"Anyway . . . we ended up at a diner after we dropped Rose and Em off at their hotel for the night." I smile, remembering how all the patrons stared at us when we showed up at two in the morning, still dressed to the nines in our bridal party attire. "I didn't trust him at first. Kept him at arm's length for months, but he was persistent."

Edward nods and finds my gaze. "He knew a damn good thing when it was staring him in the face."

His response is paralyzing. Only by divine intervention do I form any further coherent thoughts. "It started out slow." My fingers circle the rim of my cup. "Really slow . . . and now—"

"And now you're getting married." He completes my sentence, his voice soft, but there's a gruffness about it, too. After pulling his lips into his mouth, he offers me an obligatory smile.

I put my cup down and fiddle with my hands in my lap. The light and fluffy air from moments ago is suddenly heavy, almost uncomfortable. "Weird, right?" I whisper. "Especially considering Tyler's shitty behavior that night."

"Hey,"—he shakes his head—"five years is a long time. Lots can happen and people can definitely change. You deserve to be happy." Another of his melancholy smiles emerge. "What I think doesn't factor into this equation at all."

It's like a bomb that drops to the pit of my gut. Truer words were never spoken. Edward shouldn't and hasn't factored into the equation of my life for over twenty years. You'd think I could just get over all this anxiety and confusion over him.

It's inexplicable, even to me, as to why I can't.

"It's not like I didn't notice that rock on your finger." He gives me a pointed look. "I was going to hear about the lucky guy eventually, right?"

I finally find the nerve to reciprocate the line of questioning. "What about you?"

" _What_ about me? Am I engaged?" He chuckles. "No. But I have someone; it's new, though. She just moved out to Vegas . . . got a job out there; she wants me to join her."

"Oh, that's very cool. What does she do?"

"She's a dancer at Bally's."

My eyes pinch shut, trying to contain any obnoxious comment threatening to unleash. "Your new girlfriend's a Vegas showgirl?"

"Yeaaaaaaap." We find each other's gaze again and both start laughing.

"Only you, dude." I tilt my head up just in time to see a star shoot across the inky sky. "No wonder I was never even a blip on your radar," I mutter.

Edward's laughter stops. "Y'know, even though our ships passed in the night when we were in our teens, you blipped plenty on my radar. Hell, you spent all of high school in two serious relationships, right?" He sends a knowing look my way, accompanied by his crooked half-grin. "Nobody else stood a chance with you."

A blanket of tension falls heavy on what should've been a fun night of catching up. I rub the package of krimpets on my thigh so the frosting sticks to the cake and doesn't peel off with the wrapper. It's a momentary distraction from the detour to Awkwardville he took us on with his account of me during high school. "Oh, well. As long as you're happy, right?"

His brow furrows. "That's what they say."

While I'm tearing the cellophane off my Tastykake, Edward gets up and walks over to the lifeguard stand. I want desperately to salvage our reunion, but maybe it's not meant to be; we really stepped into some murky territory over the last few minutes.

He bends down, digging through the sand a bit before climbing to the high seat. After a few minutes, I wander out to meet him.

"Did I say something?"

He shakes his head. "Nahh. Just doing what I did when I was a kid. After we moved across town, I'd come hang out here in the evenings when I finished my homework. It sucked not being around the corner from you and Jazz anymore. When I was here, I'd dig up as many pebbles I could find on the beach and then throw them in the lake until my collection ran out." He hurls a rock from his perch and then jumps down to the sand next to me. "I bet the water level was higher in the 80's because of me."

"Emmett'll be happy to hear I ran into you. Rosalie said he's tried contacting you for a while, but you've been MIA."

He swallows tightly, still staring out over the lake. "Yeah, I've been lousy at keeping in touch over the years. I should give him a call."

"They'd both love to hear from you, I'm sure." I try to keep my voice cheerful, not wanting him to feel berated for losing touch with his old friends.

"Where are they living these days?" he asks, signaling for us to walk back up the beach to the pavilion.

"They're up in North Jersey. Both teaching, but in different districts."

He nods, a satisfied smile on his face. "That's awesome. I'm glad things are working out for them."

When we get back to the pavilion, I indulge in my dessert while he digs into his pie. I narrow my eyes at him as a ludicrous tale from our high school days runs through my mind.

"How're the butterscotch krimpets?"

Covering my mouth, I do my best not to spray crumbs so as not to waste the deliciousness. "Aweshhhome." I wash my bite down with coffee. "How 'bout you? Enjoying your pie?"

"Mhmmm," he moans. At least I think he moans, which makes me bite my tongue so _I_ don't moan. And now I _have_ to ask the question; thankfully I'm still fueled by the liquid courage he served me earlier.

"So, uhhh . . . when we were in high school, a rumor went around that guys used Tastykake pies to learn how to,"—I roll my hand in a forward motion—". . . you know,"—more wrist rolling with a chin jut to drive the point home—". . . on a girl."

His head falls back and guffawing ensues.

Mortified, I shove half a cake down my throat so I don't continue to grill Edward on how and when he may have become a sexpert. Maybe a sinkhole will appear in the sand and swallow me up, God willing.

His resounding laughter is infectious, though, and eases my embarrassment somewhat. Once he recovers, he cocks his head, smugness seeping from every pore. "You heard that, did you?"

"Are you denying it?"

He takes another bite, his eyes now locked with mine. "I didn't say all that."

 _Perfect._ Now I have to make sure I don't watch him eat the rest of his Tasty Klair for fear that I'll spike a fever. Couple that with the freezing cold air out here and I'll end up with pneumonia at my damn wedding.

"Hoh-kay. Moving on," I announce, guzzling the rest of my coffee while he chuckles some more. "Tell me what you've been doing for the last eleven years."

He crushes the pastry box in his hand, grabs my trash and chucks it in the can outside the pavilion. "I'll make you a deal," he says, coming back to the bench and grabbing his keys. "We'll walk down memory lane with our shared stories if we also can drive around our little hometown and visit all the old haunts. I don't feel like going home yet."

I glance at my watch. "Little late to start a new adventure, isn't it?"

"Plans with the fiancé in the morning?"

I huff. "No, uhh, I'm actually driving to Atlantic City tomorrow evening to meet up with some girlfriends. This weekend is my bachelorette party."

Edward looks down at his feet for a second before meeting my eyes again. "Well, then I think we should get started on making more memories while you're still a free woman, don't you?"

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: Their night continues in the next update. It's one of my favorite chapters.**

 **Many thanks to my fantastic fiery team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. All great writers, great ladies, great friends.**

 **Thank you so much to all of you who are reading and taking the time to leave a review. Your kindness and excitement/anxiety/trust for me and for this story mean the world. And just to reassure you all, yes, this will be an HEA. I realize, for Edward and Bella, the romance has been and will be a slow burn, but I wanted to tell a _real_ story about how a friendship and relationship can progress, change, and sometimes deteriorate or even rekindle over time. ****Especially one that starts when you're six and is still reshaping itself twenty and thirty years later.** **You've only been in Bella's head so far; Edward's explanations and reasoning will be revealed in coming chapters. I've asked before and I'll ask again, hang in there!**

 **See you next Friday!**

 **xo, Jen**


	10. Chapter 10

**(+)(+)(+)Far Away Flame(+)(+)(+)**

"Okay, so where's our first stop?" I ask, bouncing a little in my seat while I pull the car door closed behind me. I still can't believe the improbable happened and we're spending some time catching up.

"You'll see."

I rub my hands together in front of the vents after Edward blasts the heat. "We're not gonna get arrested for trespassing, right?"

His mouth falls open. "Now, when did you ever know me to be a rule-breaker?"

"Never," I agree as our truck creeps down the quiet, wooded street. "But you still surprised me over the years."

In less than twenty seconds, Edward turns into the sandy parking lot of Brooks Field. "Fine, name one time I surprised you." He drives up to the front door of the old summer day camp Craft Shop and pulls the keys from the ignition while I deliberate whether I should open this can of worms. "I'm waiting," he teases, his arms open wide.

I huff. "Okay, how about you losing your virginity when you were only fifteen years old?"

"WHAT? To who?"

I raise my eyebrow, a little too condescendingly, and then reel it in before the men in white coats jump out of the bushes and haul me off for being irrationally bothered by something that happened fourteen years ago.

"Dorie Chester." _Equal parts harlot and bane of my existence._

"Where on earth did you hear that crap?" He steps out of the car, and I follow him up to the door.

"I can't believe you're denying that and hello? I thought you said we wouldn't be trespassing!" I whisper-shout, now glued to his side and twitchy with nerves that the flashing lights and sirens might appear, and I'm the dope who'll end up getting caught.

He motions to the handle. "There's no lock. Plus, we're just gonna take a look around." His finger now points at me before he twirls it around in a circle. "And we're coming back to this bogus virginity story too, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mutter, armed and ready with the hickey proof I saw on both of them with my own eyes. Walking through the musty entrance of the log cabin, I'm inches behind him and ducking, even though the ceiling is a good twenty feet high. I'm convinced there are night-flying creatures ready to swoop down out of the rafters. "How did you even know this place would be open and accessible?"

He snickers. "I didn't. But I _was_ here yesterday helping a buddy out, installing a new fridge and deep freezer for the concessions window. We accidentally busted the corroded lock on the door when we left." His half-smile helps to calm my jitters while he pulls a mini-flashlight out of his back pocket. "I took a chance that Kurt hadn't gotten back here to replace the lock yet. Let's face it. This place has seen better days; they're hardly protecting a gold mine."

It's true; the building is ancient and run down . . . probably needs to be condemned. The Craft Shop at Brooks Field still serves as a concession stand during community softball and soccer games in the spring and fall, but in its heyday, it also used to buzz with activity every summer during Medford Lakes Day Camp. For eight years, we came in here for our hour-slot of arts and crafts: tie-dying t-shirts, making wooden napkin holders, painting ceramics . . . we always did all sorts of decent projects, never chintzy stuff. And of course, we gradually painted and starred our wooden plaques—one section each summer—until achieving our bronze shield after spending that final 8th-grade summer as a counselor-in-training.

"Did you like coming back as a counselor?" I ask, running my hand along the shelf that still holds the same white, orange, yellow and green-colored cans of paint, which coated the four corners of the shield.

"I was a junior counselor for a year, but then I started the painting gig for my dad and never returned to camp. You?"

"Oh, I came back for a while," I say, nodding. "Spent a few years as junior counselor and then did another four as a regular counselor. It was easy money, especially when I was in charge of the older girls. They just wanted to sit around under the trees and talk about boys when we weren't at swim lessons, tennis, or here at the shop," I say with a laugh. "I got paid to lay out and tan. Those were fun summers."

"Sounds like it."

"Of course, it became a little nerve-wracking the summer after we graduated, when my girls nominated me for Miss Medford Lakes. They had me convinced half the town was voting for me because I was the popular camp counselor."

"Yo, I totally remember when your picture was pinned up around the town." He barks out a laugh.

"Please, I was _terrified_ of winning. I didn't want to spend Canoe Carnival stuck on a decorated themed-float all night, sailing around a lake for two hours."

"I can't remember if I voted or not. If I did, I'm sure it was for you," he pledges, hand over his heart.

"Believe me, I was much happier losing. I'm sure with leaving for college at the end of that summer, I never would've been able to fulfill my all-important duties as Queen throughout the year." I mark off my fingers. "Cutting ribbons at new stores, plugging in the town Christmas tree's lights, riding on the back of the convertible Sebring at the Halloween and Memorial Day Parades . . ."—I shake my head, drama and silliness drips from my every word—"Too much pressure, I would've had to abdicate the throne." I hope that slipping college into my explanation might help us tackle that subject, but he doesn't take the bait.

"Remember lining up on the blacktop every morning for attendance?" He shakes his head, pushing himself up on the counter near the window. "Never failed that it was already roasting at 8:30 A.M., and they still made us sit on that hot pavement for damn near a half hour."

I snort. "Thank goodness for towels and thermoses filled with ice water." I lean against the picnic table that's been splattered a thousand times by campers. It looks like a Jackson Pollock reject. A vivid memory strikes me and I have to smile. "Hey, do you remember one of your counselors making you guys march and sing as you walked between activities?"

His eyes narrow, looking like he's scrolling through his mental Rolodex. "Oh, man . . . I _think_ so. We were really young. I can picture it, like walking from the field outside down to the beach for swim lessons or something."

"I did my little-girl version of swooning back then, watching you guys. There she was, just a—walking down the street, singing . . ."

"Doo wah diddy, diddy dum, diddy doo." Edward busts out laughing after he sings the refrain back to me. "Holy shit. Now _that_ one was from way back in the vault. That must've been one of the earlier summers, maybe after first or second grade. The counselor would sing the verse and we had to echo back to him." He laughs. "Too funny."

I can't help but smile. I'm finding it so easy to talk to him again. Despite the changes I saw in him through the years, and even when we grew apart as we got older, I believed he was still fundamentally my forever friend— _my_ Edward. It's hard to ignore the giddy crushing feelings that try to surface.

"Camp was cool." I nod, looking around again. "Learned all sorts of stuff here."

He quirks his eyebrow. "Care to share?"

"Ummmm . . ." I trail off trying to come up with a decent memory. "Oh! Yeah, learned how to shave my legs."

"Ha!" He hops down from the counter and jerks his head. Guess we're off to our next stop. "What, did you all bring razors and soap or something?"

"No. Pretty sure a few of the mean girls bullied a crowd of us who still hadn't ventured into shaving yet. I went home that night and took my mom's pink Lady Bic and shaved a smooth streak right up the center of my shin." He smacks his palm to his forehead, listening and chuckling, like my silly story truly matters to him. "I was so terrified my parents were gonna flip out. I made sure to wear my knee socks pulled up at all times till the hair grew back, and then I asked my mom if I could start using Nair the next week."

"You girls had it rough," he calls across the hood of his black F-150. "Guys didn't have to go through any of that junk. As long as we made it through the voice change with as much dignity as possible and didn't inadvertently pitch a tent around the pretty girls, it was smooth sailing."

I giggle. "So, don't leave me hanging . . . did you pitch any tents at inopportune times?"

He sends me his killer smile. "I'll take the fifth on that one."

"Chicken," I say with another chuckle, strapping the seat belt across my lap. "So, what's next?"

"Let's just cruise around for a bit and see what we can see. You in?"

I haven't heard a peep from Tyler. I'm sure he's drunk, neck-deep in poker chips and scantily clad women, but I trust him. And Emmett would never let him do anything stupid. I've got nothing to worry about. Plus, I'm having too good of a time with Edward to call it a night just yet.

"You're the driver,"—I raise my palm—". . . go for it."

.

.

.

We spend the next forty minutes laughing and reminding each other of goofy stories about old friends. We drive by every landmark and building that ever meant anything to us as kids, in a town that has twenty-two lakes weaving between countless trees in its one and a half square miles. We truly lived in the woods. It was always a close-knit community, a great place to raise a family. Nothing ever infiltrated our perfect bubble.

"Uhh, I have an idea for our next destination, but we need to make a stop first, and no, it doesn't involve trespassing," he reassures, winking.

"And I was just getting used to thug life."

He snorts, shaking his head. "I'd forgotten how damn funny you are. Thug life."

.

.

.

"Thank goodness for 24-hour drive-thru windows." I raise my cup and tap it against his. "Good call on the Shamrock Shakes."

Edward nods, his cheeks completely sunken while he sucks the thick shake through the straw before coming up for air. "Toldja."

"Fry?"

"Thanks." He grabs a few and pops them in his mouth before turning into the darkness of Mohawk Trail, one of the arteries stretching from one end of the town to the other. "I can't dip yet. That'll have to wait till our next stop."

"Friends don't let friends dip and drive," I promise. "It's my job to help keep you safe."

We both laugh as he makes his final turn, and I realize where we're headed. "Nokomis playground?"

"Hell yeah! How many times did you, me, Jazz, and Embry come down here to play after we got our homework finished?" He points after shifting into park. "And sledding down that hill? This place rocked."

We walk through the woods, dipping our fries into the minty shakes and make our way onto the same field where he chose me over the other girls who clamored for his attention all those years ago. The nostalgia is an arrow to my heart. Not enough to cause it to break, but enough to make me aware that the pang exists.

I have to wonder if that lingering twinge will always be there when it comes to Edward and I.

Assuming he's not feeling any of these chick-ish emotions, I try to snap myself out of my momentary blue funk. "I'd say, 'race ya to the tire swing' if I wasn't wearing three-inch heels."

"And taking your shoes off would be the worst mistake because the sandspurs are growing like crazy since we've had so much rain."

I look at him, surprised. "Is that what they're called?" I hum. "I remember always calling them—"

"Hitchhikers? Yeah, I did, too. But you know my dad, ever the science teacher and always ready with an environmental lesson in his pocket protector."

We head to the back of the field where the tire swing is still hooked up to the old oak tree on the playground. "May I?" I ask, stepping forward.

He lifts his palm out and turns to climb up the monkey bars, perching on the top wrung, still enjoying his drink. "Do you ever think that it sucked when our school had to merge with Neeta at the other end of town?"

I giggle at his random thought. "Well, we certainly couldn't have fit all thirty of us in this little place through eighth grade, but yeah, I get what you're saying."

"We had a cool little crowd going," he says, shrugging. "It worked for me." Our heads turn in the direction of a car crawling down the street, its headlights illuminating us for a split second.

"Yeah, once we combined with the other thirty or so kids, granted, I got a couple more good friends out of it, but—"

"It took away from the ones we already had." Edward locks eyes with me, his words filling in the blanks I felt were too sappy to use myself. The pensive smile he offers is like a looking glass into his always-caring heart. _Maybe he did miss me after our friendship began to dwindle?_ The possibility makes me high as a kite and completely miserable all at once.

I try to shift gears while leaning back to gain momentum on my swing. "We still made some memories in junior high, though." I groan. "Remember when I broke my arm in eighth grade?"

He shakes his head. "You were always falling down."

"Hey!" I protest. "Our bikes were all clumped together on the riding path. It's not like I strategically looped my handlebars through Amy Corson's backpack strap. Once we hit the open lot, she unknowingly turned one way, and I tried to turn the other."

"And you landed on your wrist." He shudders. "I've never broken a bone."

"It was pretty much the most painful thing I've ever felt. Had to wear that ridiculously sweaty cast for the rest of the school year." I make a face. "But at least Mom stitched that satin and lace glove for me to cover it up at the graduation dance."

Edward chuckles and jumps down from the bars. "I think I still have the professional video of that dance somewhere."

"And so began our high school career."

"Yeah, speaking of high school," he segues. "Who told you I slept with Dorie? And at fifteen?"

I sigh, feeling my cheeks warm with embarrassment. "Oh, just forget I brought it up; it was dumb."

"No, seriously. I mean, it's not like I can change the past, but what gave you the impression I did that?"

I shrug, trying not to get dizzy as I spin while the swing uncoils. "It was a Monday morning, and I heard a few girls gossiping about it in chorus. They said Dorie confirmed it during homeroom."

He huffs, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the inside corners of his eyes. "We didn't have sex."

"I saw a hickey on her—"

"We barely kissed," he interjects.

". . . _and_ on you." I raise my eyebrows, scooting off the swing. "And yours was a doozy, too . . . looked like she took a Hoover to your neck." My snark takes over a bit, but I'm too late to tamp it down.

He laughs. "Well, I can assure you I didn't lose my virginity that weekend." He scoffs, grabbing the tire swing to stop its unmanned spinning. "And for a few years after that, if we're being honest. I was a chicken shit around girls, you know that."

His revelation about not having sex at such a young age manages to calm a part of me I didn't even realize still felt frazzled after all these years. I wish I'd known at the time, because it jaded my view of him, and I hated that he became tarnished in my eyes. I suppose I owe him an explanation about how my disappointment and confusion emerged.

"I _thought_ I knew that, but then we hit ninth grade, and to me it seemed like you turned into Joe High School." I look up at the sky, searching for the right words. "We ran in different crowds. You were in first class and I was in steerage, or at least it felt that way. Everybody knew your name, all two thousand students. I figured maybe the old friend I knew didn't really exist anymore."

He puts his hands on his hips and looks away from me, shaking his head. "Don't you remember that we had a similar talk when we were on the Homecoming Court together?"

His words stop me in my tracks. "Yeah, I remember, but I didn't think you did. Things between us changed as we grew up, Edward." I focus on the pine cone I'm tapping with the toe of my shoe. "It didn't make you or me a bad person . . . it just is what it is, or was what it was," I chuckle humorlessly, waving it all off. "Whatever."

"Just because we got to high school, it didn't change how I felt about you, Bella. Or that I always thought of you as my . . . friend." His stutter before he finishes his thought throws me off. He sounds sincere, and it's making me feel anxious. "You never bothered to go out of your way and keep in touch with me either, you know." He shrugs, sounding more and more irked with each word while he paces a bit. "Junior high was over and you were just gone. No phone calls, no drive-bys, you never stopped to talk to me in the halls . . . you vanished from my life, too. You're not the only one who felt slighted, okay?"

I give him an incredulous look, ready to jump into a spiel about high school caste systems, but then I think, why bother? Hasn't this ship sailed eons ago? Yes, I had him up on a pedestal to a degree, which he never asked for . . . it was just how I saw him. I can't hold him accountable for what I perceived in my head. But it's also unfair for him to say these things now. It makes me feel cheated. Like if either of us had just spoken up to say we were missing each other, maybe _we'd_ be getting married in three weeks. I shake off my preposterous inner monologue and decide to land my mental ship of fools before it skips off into the galaxy, and I'm never heard from again.

I bounce on my legs to keep warm and try to cheer up the tone. "C'mon. Where're you taking me on our next childhood stop? And we haven't even touched on what _you_ did at college."

"What I did at college doesn't even come close to mattering, trust me," he mutters. "There's nothing to tell. I dropped out because I'm a pussy who couldn't handle my shit," he scoffs, shrugging.

"What the fuck does that mean?" I snap, despising that he just degraded himself like that. How I should continue to respond versus how I want to respond is the difference between a single worm being released and an entire truckload being dumped on our heads.

He ignores my question and continues. "What I want to know is why're you changing the subject?"

I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the chain-link fence next to the baseball dugout. "Edward," I whine, tortured that he wants to stick with this line of questioning. "It's like you said earlier: we can't change anything about the past. High school politics are over and thank God for that. Let's just talk more about you," I urge. "And why would you say that what you did doesn't matter?" A sudden burst of adrenaline rushes through me, powered by frustrated desperation. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed talking to you? Missed knowing what's going on in your world?" I flick my arms up in the air. "When are we ever going to have this chance again?"

"I promise you, Bella, I'm not impor—it's not worth the time it would take to explain it all."

The hard breath I exhale billows in a puffy, white stream toward the ground. I'm trying really hard not to allow tears of frustration to form, so I quickly switch gears again. "All right, then let's get out of here. I'm having fun on our hometown tour."

"Well, unless you take me back to your parents' house, or we go raid the house around your block that I used to live in—although I think the current owners might have something to say about that—I can't think of where else to go that holds memories for us."

I nod, admonished by his dismissive tone. "Okay. Maybe you should just take me back to PJ's to get my car."

In the shadows cast by the moonlight, I can see his Adam's apple bob up and down, his jaw set in frustration—I assume—with me.

 _What a shitty way to end what's been a fantastic evening. Way to go, Isabella._

We walk back to the car, no words passing between us. The rustling of crunchy leaves and night critters surrounds us, but it can't drown out my internal voice screaming at me to fix this before it's over.

Thankfully, Edward turns on the radio when we pull out of the lot. At least we'll have something to fill the silence. The final piano chords of "Faithfully" by Journey fade out as the robotic voice announces an '80s rock block before a keyboard's familiar notes are joined by Steve Perry's voice.

I sputter a sarcastic chuckle, burying my head in my hands and pull my fingers slowly down my face. "Did you plan this?"

Edward smirks, giving me a pointed look. "I'm good, but I'm not that damn good." He shakes his head, adjusting the volume. "Unfuckingbelievable."

We listen to "Oh Sherrie" all the way back to PJ's parking lot, neither of us making a move to end the night before the song comes to a stop. When it's over, Edward shuts off the radio.

"I used to listen to my tape of that song over and over when I was a kid," he confesses, his head tipped back against the seat. "It was a crappy version; y'know, where you hold the tape recorder up to the clock radio and have to stay silent until the song finishes?"

I smile. "I did that for tons of songs." I don't fill in the part that when my parents got me my first CD player for my sweet sixteen, I ran out to Sam Goody the next day and bought Steve Perry's album to listen to "Oh Sherrie" on repeat.

"Think maybe the universe is telling us to chill out and press restart?" He talks toward the windshield.

"Stranger things have happened." I check the time on his dash. "But for now, I think it's time for me to say goodnight."

He nods, still not making eye contact. "I understand. Do you feel okay to drive?"

"I think so."

"I'll follow you back to your house." His stare finally finds mine. "If that's okay."

"I'd appreciate that," I say quietly and grab my purse from the floor.

Stepping out of his truck, I get into my car and head out of the parking lot. I'm numb the entire drive to my parents' home, somehow getting there on autopilot. I rehash what's transpired over the last few hours. My stomach went from doing flips in excitement to getting coiled up into knots and back again. In all of my imagined scenarios as a young girl, this reality didn't come close to matching how I hoped we'd enjoy a reunion.

I've been poisoned by fairy tales and John Hughes movies.

I suppose this ending is better than a perfect adult-reunion, where we miraculously declare our love for each other, vowing to be together forever, and then I go out for a bike ride only to get creamed by an eighteen-wheeler. As my luck has always gone, that ending would be more my speed.

Although this doesn't feel much different than a Mack truck to the skull.

Edward pulls into the driveway next to my car, and I step around to his driver's side door as he gets out.

"Despite whatever weirdness happened back at the playground, I want you to know that I enjoyed our time tonight," I initiate. "I haven't seen some of those spots in almost fifteen years." I fiddle with the fringe on my scarf, choosing my words carefully. "It was great to reminisce with an old friend who understood the quirkiness of this little town in the Pine Barrens."

He leans against the bed of his truck, his face marred by a crease between his brows and a smile nowhere near genuine. "Yeah. It was great to see you, too. I'd say let's try to keep in touch, but we've been a lousy bet ever since we graduated." He raises and lowers his brows quickly like he's having an unwelcomed moment of clarity. "And apparently long before that," he mutters.

Tucking some wispy hair behind my ear, I nod, not deaf to the dig he just threw at me . . . or maybe at himself? I have no idea anymore. I'm focused on my shoes, feeling a sting behind my nose as tears threaten. I vow to hold them back, though. When he catches my glassy eyes, I'll be embarrassed enough.

I find his gaze, and he instantly looks away, his jaw tensing. "I feel like there's something more I should be saying." He pulls at the back of his neck before shaking his head. "I just don't know what it is."

Somehow I muster the emotional energy to reassure him—reassure us both—so I smile. "Hey . . . we're good. We run into each other every five years or so," I say with a laugh, and he gives me his crooked half-grin. "I'll keep my eye out for you around 2009 or thereabouts."

He huffs and steps toward me, opening his arms. My heart shatters in our tight embrace, my eyes pinched in an attempt to keep the flood of emotions at bay over so much time lost. "Be happy, Bella," he whispers, his cheek resting on my head. "I hope he makes you happy. There's a closet full of stories and excuses I could share with you, but they don't matter right now."

My gut twists, knowing there's so much I don't know but wish I did.

He continues. "I guess I just want you to know that you always held a piece of me, a piece of my heart. I'm sorry that I didn't make sure you always knew that. And of all the people I've ever known in my life, you _so_ deserve to be happy."

His words slay me, but I refuse to dwell on them; I just can't. "Same goes for you," I murmur into his chest and then manage to pull my head away so I can see his face. "We barely touched on what you've been doing since high school, but it's important that you remember how special you always were— _are_ to me. Everything about you matters, Edward Cullen. And you deserve a happy ending, too."

A millisecond passes and I groan, my eyes fluttering closed. My forehead hits his chest, hearing my ridiculous double entendre. I feel his shoulders quaking over mine. Our chuckles turn to full-blown laughs as we step apart, shaking our heads and wiping our eyes again.

I send a silent prayer of thanks to heaven for allowing my slip-up to break these final strained moments.

"Thank you for that," he says, opening his door. "Something just didn't feel right . . . ending our night with that tension." His voice sounds gruff, coated with veiled emotion. "Thanks for ending it here."

No, it wasn't right, but it ended long before we got here. There's just been too much time. Too much water under the bridge, too much water leaking from my eyes, too much unknown about what's happened to him. Wasted time, wasted feelings . . . but he never did anything wrong on purpose. He never knew I carried a torch for him for years past after our childhood romance ended. Maybe that was my fault, but I was never brave enough to risk what little friendship we still had.

No. Neither of us did anything wrong. We're just victims of time and growth and life.

"I'll see ya." He smiles and steps back. His last words float toward me before he closes his car door and backs out of the driveway. I hold my palm up, watching his tail lights disappear at the end of the road.

"Bye," I whisper, swiping a tear from my cheek. I needed this night; I may not have wanted it to end this way, but I damn sure needed it.

Closure.

.

.

.

I lay in my childhood bedroom, still decorated in its Laura Ashley pink rosebuds and blooms, my watery eyes fixed on the shadowy photo tucked in the bottom corner of my wicker wall mirror. I don't need to get up and examine it. I memorized everything about that picture, about that moment, when it was taken over twenty years ago.

Edward and I, both with shaggy hair, holding our Easter baskets. There was a community egg hunt on a weekend in the spring at Nokomis School's playground, and our moms took us and our little brothers.

Holding up our loot for the camera to see, we tip our heads together because we're each other's best friend. Our smiles are so genuine, with goofy gaps in our mouths from missing teeth and all, but our faces are full of sweetness and innocence . . . of youth unobliterated by the realities that come with growing up.

To the core of my soul, I believe that as kids, when we used words like _always_ and _forever_ with such conviction, we never expected we'd drift so far out of each other's lives. A part of me is thankful we came together tonight to say what we were perhaps too shy to admit all those years ago. Back when hormones and cliques changed with the tide, and reputations and feelings were crushed with one wrong look.

No, it's better we said these things now, at twenty-nine years old, with new paths carved out that will lead us to the happier endings we each envision . . . even if those happily-ever-afters aren't meant to be with each other.

I'm going to marry Tyler in three weeks and give him my whole heart because that's what he deserves, what we both deserve. But for the rest of my life, I'm certain I'll wonder about that forever friend of mine.

Edward Cullen will always be my far away flame.

 **(+)(-)(+)(-)(+)(-)**

* * *

 **A/N: *deep breaths*** **I have to bring you up to speed on the latest in Bella's life in order to get to those all-important answers we've been dying for all along! So, there will be another pretty significant time jump ahead.**

 **Thank you so much to all who are reading and taking the time to leave a review. I can't tell you how much it means to me when you share your stories of crushes, first loves, and first heartaches that've remained with you. It helps a little to know that you weren't alone in your feelings of giddiness or pain.**

 **See you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	11. Chapter 11

**(-)(-)(-)Far Away Flame(-)(-)(-)**

 _March, present day_

On the floor next to my nightstand, I sift through a sea of photos, ticket stubs, dried flower petals, drink stirrers, and brochures.

Piles upon piles of memories chronicling our years together.

Continuing to pull trinket boxes out from my nightstand, I stumble across a sandwich bag of seashells. The faintest scent of the ocean remains. My fingers trace the uneven, scalloped edge of the gray sand dollar in the collection. I smile, but realize I'd never put that ribbon through the hole so it could be used as a decoration. I meant to hang it on the Christmas tree that first holiday we celebrated as newlyweds.

I meant to do a lot of things that never happened, I suppose.

Pausing, I study a picture of Tyler and me standing under a palm tree. The sun is setting beyond the Pacific. He's got his arms wrapped around me from behind, his face nuzzling toward my neck, and I'm laughing at the tickling sensation. I can still feel the scratch of his stubble along my jaw, his warm breath creating goose bumps over my shoulders.

He couldn't keep his hands off me.

Looking like we belonged at a P. Diddy party, we were both wearing variations of white; my husband in linen pants and a button-down shirt and me in a backless, halter sundress.

Damn, that honeymoon to Cabo was sexy as hell. Sunning ourselves on our private beach by day, dancing under the stars at night, making love till the sun came up, and starting all over again.

Ten days of pure bliss. Followed by another seven years filled with what I thought were life-altering moments of happiness. We had hilarious and wacky adventures that brought us closer together through laughter and tears. Memories we'd be able to share with the grandkids someday.

My brow crinkles, the ache still palpable. _Best laid plans . . ._

It's funny I don't find myself crying as much anymore. Even weirder? I'm not angry like I used to be. I'm resigned and ready to begin again.

 _Press restart._

I spend the next two hours emptying my bureau, walk-in closet, and bathroom cabinets. Everything I need to start over is packed neatly into seven suitcases. The furniture and replaceable knick-knacks are staying behind.

In my next place, I'm treating myself to a whole new look, a new life. After all that's transpired, I've earned a fresh start.

.

.

.

"So, my ticket is booked for the eighth."

" _You sure you don't want to come earlier? Spring Breakers will be heading out by the first. You could find yourself a hot piece of cougar meat and play Stella gettin' her groove back, Panama City edition."_

"Cougar meat?" I shake my head. "You've been in the sun too long. Your brain is fried."

Jasper's cackling on the other end of the phone, and it eases the perpetual agita I've had in my gut for the last nine weeks.

" _Okay. The eighth it is. And hey, there are still guys who're hanging out after the crowds leave. They might be college drop-outs, but they're still around."_

I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Jazz. I know I can always count on you to have my best interests at heart."

" _I'll talk to you later, sis,"_ he replies with a snicker _. "Love you."_

"Love you, too. Bye."

I heave an exaggerated sigh and fall into the sofa, wondering if this is one of the surfaces where Tyler screwed that skanky, little whore. Thinking better of it, I grab a newspaper, lay it on the cushion, and sit back down again. At least the couch isn't coming with me. He gets to keep all the memories from around here, tainted and otherwise. My emotional investments were liquidated weeks ago.

It's been a bumpy few months, but I'm just about finished rounding the bases of the grief cycle. I breezed through denial in the two hours prior to confronting Tyler. Anger turned out to be a little trickier. My genetic makeup of Italian and Irish makes for quite the temper, which can rise to a fever pitch when provoked. I may have broken a dish or nine and screamed like a lunatic on more than one occasion. And that poor Waterford vase that Tyler's parents gave to us as a fifth anniversary present definitely never saw me coming.

These days, I'm hovering between depression and acceptance. Lord knows I don't want to bargain for anything; I jumped clear over that sucker. What would I be bargaining for? Why would I want to take back a husband who has no regard for our marriage vows?

The only time my anger bubbles to a rolling boil is when I think about how I stumbled across Tyler's infidelity. Like, if I hadn't seen that picture, would I still be living in fantasy land, thinking I had a perfect marriage to an awesome guy?

In the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Facebook is a funny, funny thing.

I remember scrolling through my timeline a couple of months ago and finding a picture taken by somebody I didn't know. It showed up in my feed because my one of my high school friends—Gianna—had been tagged in it. She attended some pharmaceutical conference in New Orleans, and her friend snapped a photo of her out with colleagues. Oddly enough, my husband appeared in the picture . . . when he should've been in Chicago on business . . . but instead seduced some trampy waif who—I'm certain—has no pores and no cellulite.

My occasional bitterness stings like the bile in my throat.

I glance toward the front door, picturing how Tyler looked when he came home from work that night. I can still envision our confrontation like it happened yesterday.

"Hey baby." He tossed his keys on the bench of our hall tree in the foyer. "How you doing?"

My tongue had become paralyzed, my throat closed. All I could do was rub my eyes for a few seconds before placing my glasses back on my face, hoping to keep it together long enough to stay off the eleven o'clock news. "Not great. Wondering if we can talk about it."

He leaned down, placing a kiss on my forehead, and collapsed into the sofa next to me. "Sure, what's up?"

I pointed to the screen. "Got a picture here I need you to see."

He turned my laptop to the right to get a better look, and the color drained from his face.

"I—I can explain."

I cocked my head. "I bet you can."

The doorbell rings, pulling me out of the nauseating memory from almost three months ago. I do my best not to relive that evening. It wasn't pretty.

I open the door with a sigh of relief.

"I brought my two favorite guys for times like this." Rosalie holds up a bottle in either hand. "José and Jim."

I greet her with an exhausted smile, stepping willingly into the embrace she offers. "Those are the only boys I feel like spending time with anyway," I confess.

Neither of us makes a move to end our hug. I need this and she knows it, too.

I head straight into the kitchen and pop a frozen pizza in the oven, while Rose wastes no time getting started on emptying the music from my entertainment center. After dinner, we fill two Far Side coffee mugs with whiskey and mix up a batch of brownies. I get the feeling we won't be getting any more done tonight, but I couldn't care less. She's spending her spring break week off from teaching away from her husband and two little ones to help me move out of this house and into an apartment in Decatur, closer to my job.

At the very least, we have every right to get blitzed and just veg.

.

.

.

"You know Emmett feels responsible, right?"

I scrunch my half-numb face and reach for the remote, miraculously managing to hit the mute button on the fourth try. "W—w—whuh?"

She shrugs, and roars an unladylike yawn, but continues. "He blames himself for ever choosing Tyler to be in our wedding. If he hadn't been there . . ." She pokes at the corner of the tray of brownies we were sharing. We never bothered to cut them, just grabbed forks and dove in. "You guys wouldn't be in this mess."

I tilt my head back on the couch cushion, still covered in newspaper. "Well, you know that's ridiculous, and your husband needs to cut that shit out. I don't blame either of you. This is on Tyler alone." I sit forward, pulling my fingers through my hair. "And it pisses me off because he and I had a lot of good years, y'know? All those camping trips the four of us took?" I recount, shaking my head. "We had a ball."

"Our cruise," Rose whines. "He fucking stained all those memories. Rat bastard." She waves her fork around, brownie bits flying every which way. "You should'a Lorena Bobbitted his ass."

I giggle at her certifiable yet appealing solutions, and in seconds we're both in hysterical fits.

"He loved you so much for so long."

I stop laughing and sigh. "He did. And I loved him."

"We can't figure out what made him cheat," Rosalie rambles, tearing at the newspaper under us. "Tyler never said a thing to Em. No clues, no warning signs." She clicks her tongue.

"I don't know what drove him to cheat, but I sure as hell know the thought of kids freaked him out." My eyes are fixed on the ceiling fan as I spout the only plausible theory. "I've been talking about it for so long, hounding him all last year. I mean, we weren't getting any younger."

"But you talked about kids before he even proposed."

"Yup."

"And you both agreed you wanted a family but would wait a few years." Rosalie's volume increases in perfect time with her irritation.

"Yup."

"Why the fuck would he change the rules of the game halfway through?"

I no longer possess the energy to shake my head. I spent the last nine weeks doing this dance. There's no use in trying to figure out what Tyler had been thinking. He did what he did because he's a coward.

It hurts my heart because I never thought I'd use that word to describe the man I married. He was always brazen, honest to a fault, and never backed down from a confrontation. When he found himself to be wrong, he'd be the first to apologize and rectify the situation. He never made me feel unloved, always made me his top priority.

Finding out he'd been having an affair since last fall proved even more devastating and bewildering. Almost immediately after I discovered it, I realized that he'd become more attentive since the affair began, more loving, and more generous than he'd ever been before. And he'd _always_ been all of those things; they just increased tenfold while he wrestled with his guilt and cowardice.

Emotions become thick in my throat and I have to swallow back my tears.

Seconds pass before Rosalie reaches her hand across the couch to grasp my fingers, neither of us brave enough to address the elephant in the room.

"It'll happen," she whispers, going where I didn't think she would. "You're gonna be a phenomenal mom someday, Bella. There's somebody out there for you; I just know it."

I snort and shift gears, refusing to let the tears spill. "Yeah, a hot Latino in the kitchen named José. We've got a threesome with a bottle of Coke to get to." I smack my hand to my forehead. "Ugh . . . is it wrong to continue to support the company your soon-to-be-ex works for?"

Her Cheshire smile takes over. "Not when it's going to help you with a hefty divorce settlement."

.

.

.

Sleep eludes me, though I don't know why. Some people believe that if you can't sleep at night it's because you're awake in someone else's dreams. It's a nice thought, but it does me no good right now. Hopefully, my dreamy self is having a fabulous time wherever she is. She deserves it; we both do.

Rosalie is knocked out in the guest bedroom, so I creep downstairs to watch some television. At least that'll help put me down fast. Being half-drunk, I bet twenty minutes of jewelry sales on QVC ought to do the trick.

Before I curl up on the couch, I glance down at a crate of DVDs and VHS movies Rosalie collected earlier this evening. I recognize the old tape that sits on top, my swirling, not-yet-matured, cursive writing depicting the recording: _8_ _th_ _Grade Graduation Dinner Dance._

I pop the tape in the player and watch as the machine adjusts the tracking to rid the screen of white, wavy lines. There are about ten minutes of footage of my old classmates arriving and taking pictures with friends. The feathered hair kills me, let alone the sheer heights some of the girls achieved with the simple use of half a can of Extra Super Hold Aqua Net. I'm sure we Jersey girls are responsible for significant depletion of the Ozone layer. Those chlorofluorocarbons were no joke.

I have to muffle my giggles when Sean Norcross and Brandon Tucker walk through the balloon archway, both looking like Don Johnson à la _Miami Vice_ days. Their attire is complete with skin tight pastel t-shirt, white sport coat, and loafers sans socks. The video pans across the gymnasium and captures me snapping a picture of Charlotte and Maggie in front of a mini hot air balloon. I'm using my purple Le Clic disc camera. God, I loved that thing. The only other trinket I held closer to my heart back then had been my Swatch watch, with its interchangeable bands and guards. My parents might not have been able to afford to buy me multiple pairs of Guess jeans and Forenza sweaters like some of the other girls, but I had a cool-ass watch, that's for sure.

The next couple of minutes are kids moving through the buffet line while the audio is dubbed with Barbra Streisand, singing, "The Way We Were." I consider muting the song, unable to stomach its painful beauty, but then a young Edward appears on the screen. A few seconds later, I find that I'm smiling, misty-eyed, enraptured by his face once again. Even after all that's happened in my life—with Tyler and without Edward—I'm still bewitched by the sight of him.

He's wearing black pants, a white dress shirt, a black tie and a gray tweed jacket. I remember thinking he looked so cute that night. He's laughing and talking with the people who're serving the meals. I giggle, watching his nose crinkle when the caterer puts green beans on his plate. He hated green beans with a passion.

A bit later, the video cuts to about half of the girls in the class dancing to "Supersonic" by JJ Fad, taking me back to when dinosaurs roamed the planet. I have to laugh, noticing the boys always seemed to be on the outside edge of where the girls were dancing. They never joined in fast dances, must've been too uncool. They just watched from the sidelines until the DJ slowed things down and they could ask their favorite girls to join them.

I went to the dance on the arm of Jack Morgan. Such a sweet guy and a real trooper, considering I had a plaster cast on my left wrist. He never complained once about his collar bone hurting after having my arm rest there during a few slow songs.

The DJ continues to interview kids about where they're going to high school next year and if they plan to join any clubs or sports. Edward, of course, talks excitedly about soccer, while his date and several other girls swoon around him. He's oblivious to their flirtations, though, and it makes me shake my head and smile even more.

After the interviews, the camera pans the room and I'm transfixed when I see Edward cross the gym and ask me to dance while I'm sitting at a cluster of chairs with friends. He takes my hand and walks me to the center of the floor. There are a few other couples out there, but most kids appear tired, gathering around tables as the evening draws to a close. The recording is fuzzy, and the room dark, but the light coming from the camera captures a smile on both of our faces while we dance and talk together.

I wish I could remember what we were saying to each other.

I sit forward on the couch, entranced by the sweet scene that I used to spend nights dreaming about half a lifetime ago. In an instant, though, my heart begins to race. I find my hand clutching at my neck in shock. I leap off the couch and dump the crate of DVDs, scouring the mess for my wedding video.

"What on Earth is going on?" Rosalie's presence startles me, but I apologize and keep sifting through the pile. "Who's—oh my God, is that you and Edward?"

You'd never believe she'd been dead to the world less than five minutes ago, because she bounds over to the couch and grabs the remote. "I've gotta see this dance from the beginning."

She rewinds the tape for ten seconds just as I find the case titled, "Isabella and Tyler, April 10, 2004." I snatch my laptop from the coffee table and load the wedding DVD in the drive. I skip past the ceremony, finding no use in listening to words that no longer hold any meaning. Once we get to the reception, I slow the forwarding process because I can't recall when the exact moment I'm looking for will pop up. I think maybe it's after the "Electric Slide."

"So wait, what are you looking for on that?"

"I have to check a song . . . a song Tyler and I danced to. I _know_ the videographer captured it." I continue to scroll forward in the sequence and gasp. "I think—yeah, this is it."

I pause the eighth-grade video on the television and turn the computer to face Rosalie and me so we can view the wedding DVD. As the dance at the reception plays out, I can feel the wetness pooling in the corners of my eyes. Cheap Trick's, "The Flame" flows from the speakers, and I'm brought back to that beautiful evening almost seven years ago when I married Tyler. I swallow tightly and unpause the graduation dance as reality lowers the boom.

Seven years ago versus twenty-two years ago. Two different nights, two different boys, exact same song.

Now I remember the moment of that dance with Tyler so clearly. Wrapping my arms around my husband's neck, I leaned my head against his shoulder. The threat of tears had been so nerve-wracking, I closed my eyes and took a few deeps breaths to stall them. The lyrics ripped at my heart. They still do.

 _Remember after the fire, after all the rain . . . I will be the flame._

I stare at the computer screen, swiping the streaks that fall. I didn't remember until tonight I danced to that song with Edward all those years ago . . . but now I recall I _did_ know it on the night of my wedding. I watch myself, pained on screen, reliving the torment I felt in that moment. Berating myself, reminding myself that I was happy and blessed and starting a new life with a man who loved me beyond words. And I knew I had to leave Edward in the past forever. But hearing the haunting song had been a final gut-punch from the universe, and it made me question everything during that dance.

I remember this now. Remember every fucking millisecond of emotion.

Rosalie must've looked over at some point because she pulls me into her shoulder and brushes my hair back from my face.

"It's gonna be okay, Bella."

I shake my head, needing to get this confession off my chest.

I never told anyone how I'd felt during that dance, and that's the craziest thing. I didn't let Edward enter my mind that entire day, until the DJ happened to put that particular tune on. My husband pulled me away from some guests, wrapping his arms around me for a dance. A seemingly innocuous moment created complete havoc in my head for the length of that song.

I study myself on the computer screen, captivated by the subtle nuances I'm picking up as the song ends. I pulled my face back from Tyler's chest, my bare shoulders rising and falling with a sigh. I grinned at my husband, mouthed the words 'I love you' to him, and he returned them with a kiss. Then the crowd enveloped us, and we continued dancing and celebrating the day, a genuine smile back on my face.

"Do you know what I thought right there?" I whisper to my best friend, my voice breaking. "During that song I danced with two men." I turn, meeting her glassy eyes as she shares in my sorrow. "I knew I was dancing with the man I married and the one I wished I'd married."

Her brow crinkles. "But . . ." She stares at the television where eighth graders are waving goodbye to the video as it pans the crowd. "Edward?"

"He was always in the back of my mind. He spent our childhood right there with me. Even when we weren't super-close . . . he'd always been within reach." I sniffle. "We went our separate ways, and I've been having a grand old time. College was awesome, my twenties were awesome . . . but I would dream about him from time to time, you know?"

She nods.

"I mean, yeah, the scene at your wedding had been surreal, but I put it all behind me. I met Tyler, dated, fell in love. I _never_ pined away for Edward, not ever. But when we ran into each other right before the bachelorette weekend, we rehashed a lot of shit." I take my glasses off and rub tears away from my eyes. "Good stuff, bad stuff. It didn't solve anything, but it convinced me that I would always wonder about him. Always hope that he'd find happiness. Be safe . . . loved." I sniffle. "And yeah, I suppose growing up I always held out a sliver of hope he'd been thinking of me, too."

"But you married Tyler." She squeezes my arm in a reassuring way.

"I did. Without regret. I wasn't stupid or ready to throw my life away on the highest improbability that maaaaaybe one of the times I ran into Edward would finally be the time he'd pledge his love to me."

Her sad smile tells me I'm making sense, even through my drama.

"And, ugh—those two weeks prior to the wedding, man was I tested," I say, my voice filled with gravel. "Do you remember that Volkswagen commercial? The one where a guy is frantic, racing his car to get to a wedding?"

She crinkles her brow. "I can't remember."

I shrug, grab a tissue, blow my nose and continue. "Well, this guy is in a suit and he's driving as fast as he can, getting held up in traffic and stuff, and across town you see a bride getting primped. All her girls are around her, the dad's checking his watch. The music is creepy, kinda haunting. Bells are chiming, like you can feel the anxiety this guy is dealing with, trying to get to the church on time." I lean back on the sofa. "Finally he pulls his Jetta up to the front door of the church, runs in and the priest is saying, 'Speak now or forever hold your peace' . . . so you realize he's the other guy, the one desperate to win the girl and ready to interrupt the wedding to do it. The groom looks at the guy and then the bride and she just stares, sighing." I shake my head. "The next camera shot comes back to the outside of the church where the car is parked, and the words at the bottom of the screen say, 'Fasten your seatbelt.'"

Rosalie huffs, falling back into the couch next to me. "Talk about a mind fuck."

I raise my eyebrows. "You're telling me. I spent the two weeks before to the wedding having to see that commercial at least two dozen times. It made me sick. I kept asking myself what the hell I would do if that ever happened to me."

"Easy." She shrugs. "You would've gone with Edward."

"Would I?" I shake my head. "I don't know. Why would I have thrown away everything I knew Tyler felt for me on the possibility that maybe Edward really cared about me in that way?"

"Well, if he showed up like in that commercial or _The Graduate_ or whatever, you would've known how he'd felt all along."

"I don't know. Maybe I would've felt it was a day late and a dollar short." Rosalie doesn't respond after a few seconds, so I chuckle at my hypotheses. "Oh, well. Good thing it didn't happen, right?"

She turns to me, her brow quirked. "Is it? Shit, after what we all know now, you would've been better off with Edward from the get-go."

I scoff. "When last I saw him, he intended to follow his Vegas show girl of a girlfriend out to Sin City to make a life out there, Bugsy Siegel-style."

"Well, I doubt he became a mobster, but it's been seven years," Rosalie retorts. "Lots can change in that time."

"Yeah. He could be married with a troop of babies by now."

"I wish Emmett could find him. We've tried tracking him down so many times, but with no luck. Anyway, Edward could be single and available; you never know."

I stand, ejecting the DVD from the computer and then the tape from the VCR. "That's the whole point, Rose. I never knew anything about him back then, and I sure as hell don't know anything about him now." I put away the movies and run my fingers through my hair, trying to turn my brain off for two seconds. "If he wanted to stay in my life, he should've never locked me out of his. Besides, things in my world are shitty enough right now. I don't need to start daydreaming about Edward Cullen again. That ship has sailed, sunk, and is collecting barnacles at the bottom of the sea."

"Didn't they try to raise the Titanic?" Her three a.m. voice is uncharacteristically hopeful.

"Did it work?"

Rosalie sighs and sticks her tongue out at me, conceding her argument.

"Exactly."

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

* * *

 **A/N: How's that for fast-forwarding time past the icky "Bella's not married to Edward, so I don't wanna hear about it" years, LOL! And just to bring you up to speed, she was married to Tyler for almost 7 years . . . it is now technically 2011, but for all intents and purposes for us, we're considering this present day. Bella is 36 years old (and so is Edward, wherever he may be ;) ) And I hope you all got that reference to the movie, _How Stella Got Her Groove Back_. It was originally a book by Terry McMillan and then a movie, made even more famous by the amazing Angela Bassett starring in the leading role of a forty-something woman who travels to Jamaica on vacation and has a steamy romance with a twenty-something guy played by Taye Diggs. Delicious all around. ;)**

 **I'm posting the video of the Volkswagon commercial in the Cabana. Still gives me chills to this day. Come check it out.**

 **Much love and enormous thanks to my FAF team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. And to my fantastic readers and reviewers, I'm so thrilled you're still with me and finding pieces in the story that remind you of a time long ago, that holds happy or even bittersweet memories. I so appreciate your kind words and support for this tale! My apologies that I didn't get to any review replies this week. Life is so crazy, and I spend my free time writing so that I can keep to our posting schedule. Hope you understand.**

 **Thanks for reading. See you next Friday!**

 **xo, Jen**


	12. Chapter 12

**(-)(-)(-)Far Away Flame(-)(-)(-)**

"Good morning, sunshine," Jasper calls from behind his newspaper. He folds down a corner, eyeing me over his glasses. "You're lookin' easy like a Sunday morning."

I grunt back and head straight for the coffee pot. Jasper is way too chipper for seven in the morning, embodying the ultimate beach-bumming surfer. He's cute, I'll give him that. "Nice shades, Maverick," I reply, plopping onto a bar stool.

Tossing the newspaper on the counter, he stands and walks to the stove. "They get the job done. Sometimes daylight is too painful and arrives obscenely early." He pulls a skillet out of the oven and slides an omelet onto a plate already decorated with a few chunks of honeydew. " _Mangia_."

I grab the fork he hands me and reach for a napkin. "So tell me why either of us is up, then?"

After scrubbing the pan, he rinses it then lays it on a drying mat. He's so domesticated it makes me think I've entered some alternate universe. This can't possibly be the same kid who came down here at twenty-four years old with a dusty business degree from Rutgers, put it on a shelf to start a party boat excursion company for tipsy tourists, and within ten years turned his business into a fleet of luxury private cruising vessels. He amazes me. I couldn't be more proud.

"Because you need a couple days on the water getting hammered with your baby brother and his best friend. James is meeting us at the pier in an hour, and we set sail at noon."

I cut into my omelet, my mouth watering at the sight. "Bacon, tomato and feta?"

"And cilantro," he adds, winking.

"Who _are_ you?"

He snorts. "I know, I know. My steady diet of Pop Tarts and Red Bull got old after a while. Plus, when we bought the Sea Siren, I spent enough hours with our part-time chef to learn how to cook a decent meal."

I chase a mouthful of eggs with a gulp of coffee. "This is sensational."

"You're welcome."

He comes around to my side and kisses my temple while I respond with an articulate mouthful. "Hankhooo."

I continue stuffing my face while he messes with his phone for the next few minutes.

"So, when do I get to meet Alice?" I ask, fighting with a slice of grape tomato.

"She's on overnight shifts until Thursday but saved her whole weekend for you."

"Can't wait to hear the tale of how you landed an up-and-coming orthopedic surgeon."

He gives me the same restrained smile he did back in high school when the results of our SATs arrived in the mail, and as a freshman he'd beaten my score by sixty points.

"It's a good one." He opens the fridge. "Juice?"

"Nah, I'm good."

He pulls another stool up next me. "Are you?" He tips his head to the side. "Really?"

I stab a wayward chunk of feta and shrug. "What do you want me to say? The life I thought I was living turned out to be a sham, as did my husband."

"He's a fucker."

I sigh. "That he is."

"Are you ready to share the nitty-gritty details?" He pulls his sunglasses off and rests his folded hands on the counter.

"They're pretty gory. I mean, compared to what you and I are used to. We grew up like the Brady Bunch. Mom and Dad with this model marriage, and now you with a doctor-wife."

Clearing his throat, he gives me a tired look. "Girlfriend."

"Eh, semantics." I stand, bringing my plate to the sink to wash. "Our parents are mighty impressed with her and Mom's ready to go buy a mother-of-the-groom gown, FYI."

He shakes his head, an unmistakable smirk emerging. "It's only been four months."

"And?"

"Aaaaand . . . at least gimme till the end of the year. If we can make it through the summer, we might have a fighting chance."

"Uhh, you made it through spring break, didn't you? I'd imagine a month of barely-legal-drinking-age girls gone wild hanging all over you would be the true test of any relationship, sweetie."

He huffs a little breath. "True dat. C'mon,"—he smacks his palm on the counter—"we'll swap stories once we're on the water with the alcohol flowing."

"Perfect. Drunk in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. Much easier scenario to end it all, anyway."

He turns around slowly, head cocked and brow quirked. _Yikes._ If looks could kill.

"Kidding!" I walk up to him, stand on my tip toes, and kiss his cheek. "I'm kidding," I giggle. "Promise."

.

.

.

"Your turn," Jasper pipes up before emptying his beer.

"Pretty sure we'll need more liquor for this one," James says, standing and pointing to Jazz. "Another?"

My brother nods, holding up his Blue Moon. "Bells?"

"Another lemon drop and keep 'em coming." I reach my hand out and squeeze James' fingers. "Thank you."

"Done." James heads into the saloon, leaving my little brother and me on the deck, under the stars.

"Well, at least you've outgrown your Zima phase," Jasper teases, earning him a flip of the bird.

"I didn't outgrow anything. They just don't make it anymore." I pout, remembering my go-to beverage of choice from my college years and beyond. "That shit rocked."

"You're such a girl. Did I not teach you anything?"

"You taught me how to take a pull from a bong, Cheech." I send a pointed look his way. "I learned how to drink starting the night before high school graduation. Then I perfected it at frat parties at college. I was never under your tutelage when it came to alcohol, thank you very much."

He waves me off. "Whatever. At least you didn't bring wine coolers today."

"Hey, don't knock my wine coolers; they have their place in the world. But I knew this trip required the heavy stuff."

He snorts, lighting a cigarette. "Okay, so lay it on me."

"Not without me!" James shouts from the galley. "Hang on!"

Jasper and I chuckle as James joins us with a pitcher, a martini glass, and a small cooler. "Figured this way we didn't have to keep getting up."

"This is why I keep you around, dude," Jasper says, high-fiving his childhood best friend.

I sway a little, trying to sit forward in my deck chair. "You're not just a pretty face, you know that, Mr. Hunter?"

"Aww, Bellsie, if you'd said that to me twenty years ago, I would've made you mine in a New York minute." James dips the rim of my glass in the bowl of sugar he pulls from the cooler and then pours the drink. Garnishing it with a lemon, he passes it over to me with a wink. "Since it's confession night, let it be known I had the hots for you for years when we were kids."

"Here we go," Jasper mutters.

My ears perk up. "Well, shit, why didn't you say something?"

James wiggles his thumb toward my brother. "Sonny Corleone over here wouldn't let me near you."

I drop my jaw and give Jasper the stink eye.

"Please, you were already juggling all the little private school girls at St. Mary's. I wasn't about to unleash you on my sister. Plus, we all know she only had eyes for Edward."

I freeze, martini glass stilled at my lips. _Really, little brother? Must Edward always enter the damn conversation?_

"That's RIGHT!" James shouts with an added laugh. "I'd forgotten about you two lovebirds."

I snort, finishing a sip of my drink. "At least one of us did."

"What ever happened to Edward?"

Shaking my head, I sigh. "I wouldn't know. Haven't heard from him in years. Haven't seen him since before I got married. And my girlfriend and her husband can't track him down either."

"You mean Rose and Emmett?" Jasper asks.

"Yup. No phone numbers, no Facebook, no email address, nothing. He's in the wind."

"We should try to reach out to Embry. Maybe _he's_ on Facebook in between penalty kicks and running the field." James says, kicking his feet up on the cooler. "It sucks that you're not still in touch with him, though. Even without big brother watching, I knew I didn't have a shot with Edward there."

I cringe. "Was my crush always that obvious?"

"Not yours, his," James chuckles.

"Uhh," I sputter a laugh. "You must be drunker than I thought. That boy never crushed on me."

"Yeah, okay," my brother adds. "There's a difference between a boy's crush and a girl's crush, Bells,"—he nods condescendingly—". . . trust us, he was into you."

All I can do is shake my head. These two can think what they want, but they're delusional. Yes, Edward always treated me sweetly, included me whenever possible, and hung out with us all the time while he lived around the corner. But we were just friends at that point. It didn't matter that I may have always wanted him to be my boyfriend again, there's just no chance Edward felt the same way.

"So, how did I magically woo you into having the hots for me?" I ask James. "Was it my tragically trendy jelly sandals or my neon sweatshirts with matching rubber bracelets that hooked you?"

He snickers. "You were just all-around awesome. The coolest girl in my world. But yeah, when you wore those plastic sandals, you were smokin'!"

I kick his chair for teasing me and sit back, sipping from my cocktail. "It was all those baby doll nightgowns I wore when I was a kid, wasn't it?" I chuckle, remembering. "Whew, I bet I gave you all sorts of images when you came over for sleepovers with Jazz."

James gets a silly, waggle-eyed grin. "Never heard me complain once."

"Okay, okay. . ." Jasper waves his hands around. "Let's back off all the sexual innuendo from when we were kids. None of us did shit about it until high school anyway."

"Speak for yourself," I counter. "I was a very good girl in high school. I didn't lose my v-card until the following year at college."

"Get the hell outta here!" James shouts, leaning forward. "All those guys you spent time with in high school and nobody got in your pants?"

"Aww, for the love of—" Jasper cuts himself off, shaking his head.

I giggle, watching my brother squirm. "I kept my boyfriends very happy if you must know."

"Oh. My. God." Jasper covers his ears while his lips smash together tightly, probably to stop himself from vomiting.

James's drunken, hooded eyes and satisfied nod crack me up. "I bet you did, Isabella Monroe."

A smile of regret crosses my face before James backtracks.

"I mean, Swan. Or is it still Monroe?" James stutters through his embarrassment. "Shit, sorry Bells."

"No worries, honey. But I guess I'm up to bat, considering you brought me up to speed on Tracy and your all-star tee-baller, Jameson Junior."

The proud papa smiles while Jasper holds his palm out. "Go for it."

"In January, Tyler went away on business. At least he told me it was business." I pick at the fraying strands of my denim shorts. "Turns out he was giving somebody else the business."

James shakes his head, disgusted, looking out at the water.

"I confronted him with the proof I found. He tried to deny it for about two seconds, but it was right there on my computer screen." My vision blurs while I remember the moment, clear as day.

The whirring of the refrigerator in our kitchen, the tick-tock of Tyler's family heirloom grandfather clock in our living room, and the air, thick as molasses, as I attempted to pry the truth from my husband.

"She's a friend."

I nodded, eyes wide. "Well, she does seem awfully friendly. Emmett frequently palms my upper thigh when we pose in pictures together. Rose is cool, though, so she doesn't mind."

"Bella," Tyler said with a sigh, looking down and rubbing his hand across his face. "She—"

"Please don't tell me she's just a co-worker or someone you met that night. Neither of us is stupid, so don't pretend like that would fly. It looks like your tongue is in her ear!" I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out which question was most important in the sequence of the other three hundred twenty-three questions I planned on slamming him with tonight. "I wanna know who she is and how long this has been going on."

He cleared his throat. "Her name's Bree."

"Of course it is. Tell me, does she come already wrapped in a puffed pastry and topped with raspberry preserves, or did you have to bring your own jar of Smucker's?"

He swallowed what I presumed was a boulder but said nothing. Normally he'd give it right back to me . . . but not tonight.

It's how I knew I'd already lost.

"I met her when I was out in San Francisco last fall," Tyler answered, his voice soft and timid.

"Was that really a business trip for you or was that the start of the lies?"

He gave me a look. "You know I had a real trip for that presentation. You drove me and Jenks to the airport."

"Well, you'll have to forgive me if I question your every waking moment for the last eleven years." I paused, inhaling deeply. My heart raced and I felt overcome with heat.

 _This had to be somebody else's life._

Tyler continued quietly. "I'd had a really crappy meeting with the team. Went to the hotel bar for a few drinks. Met her there. She was vacationing with a friend."

I leaned back, getting comfortable on the couch. "And?"

"And . . . things just happened. I was drunk,"—he shrugged—"she was drunk and available." His voice trembled.

"So, what? You just forgot that you had a loving wife in Georgia and your crotch ended up wedged between her legs?"

Seconds that seemed like hours dragged on in silence. And my husband, this man, this charlatan could no longer hold eye contact with me.

"It was just a one-time thing, at least that's how I thought of it at first." Tyler leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, head hanging down. "I felt awful. The guilt,"—he shook his head—"it was all-consuming."

Drumming my fingers along the back cushion of the couch, I scrolled back in time, recalling when he came home from that trip. "It's funny, you seemed fine to me. I even remember you came back and locked us in our bedroom for hours on end." I cocked my head. "Had she gotten you all hot and bothered and then you needed more, but had to settle for the old ball and chain?"

"Bel—"

I gasped out a laugh. "Shit, that all happened and a couple days later you told me to cancel my plans, and you whisked us away for a long, romantic weekend at Château Élan." My mind raced, recounting his behavior and increased frequency of gift-giving and generous gestures. "You sent me flowers at work for no reason at all. Extra nights on the town, diamond earrings three weeks before Christmas . . . was that all you just exorcising your demons?" I seethed by the end of my string of thoughts.

His sullen expression was confession enough, but then I wanted to hear him say it.

"Tell me why it continued. I can't say that I'd forgive you for one indiscretion, but you kept going back. You've been doing this for five months, and I wanna know why."

He took a deep breath and faced me for the first time since we began this nauseating Q & A. "I know it means very little right now, but you're the love of my life, Bella." His voice broke and he stopped to take in a shuddery breath.

My lips quivered, watching my husband fall apart. My instinct was to comfort him, but I reminded myself that he didn't deserve it.

Not my arms, not my love. Not anymore.

He got a hold of himself and cleared his throat to begin again. "My feelings for you have never changed but . . . but I wasn't ready for kids, I'm still not, and that's all you've been going on about for over a year." He paused, closing his eyes before adding, "I don't think I ever wanted children."

My eyes filled with tears, his horrid revelation causing me to leap off the couch and storm into the kitchen. "Fucking asshole!" I yanked open the dishwasher, sobbing, while I started slamming pots, pans, and dishes onto the granite counter. After my second broken dish, I decided to step away from the cabinets. Clearly, this was a job for when my blood pressure wasn't through the roof. I fell into the chair at the kitchen table, weeping in silence. My spine stiffened when he appeared in the doorway minutes later.

He looked desolate . . . pitiful, his face streaked with tears as well.

"What can I say here? What can I do? I'll do anything you want," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry I've hurt you like this."

I wiped my hands across my face, tenting them in front of my mouth. "You're not sorry. You were looking for a way out and you found it. You're a selfish prick. You've lied about this affair for months, but worse than that, you've lied to me for years. Promising me all along that you'd be ready to start a family soon. _After_ you landed the new account, _after_ you trained the new team, _after_ the pool was installed . . . and I waited and waited and waited.

"My heart's breaking for so many reasons, but right now I'm going to take a page from your book. The deepest wound I'm feeling is a selfish one." I stood, my finger digging into the table. "You've stolen _my_ time." I hissed my words as more tears fell. "I'm going to be thirty-seven this year. You stole _my_ chances at having a baby, at building a family because you're a liar and a coward and a cheat." I buried my face in my hands, overcome with grief. A few seconds later, I found my voice again. "Shame on me for believing in you. For trusting in those whispered words you pledged over and over, year after year," I shouted, sobbing.

"But it ends now. This is done." I waved my hands between us. " _We_ are done. I'm taking my life back."

"He's lucky we're in the middle of the goddamn Gulf of Mexico right now, Bella," Jasper says, yanking me out of that initial night of misery. He leans forward in his chair and points right at my chest. "That ass doesn't know what he's missing."

I shake my head, snorting, trying to blink away the damn tears that pester me from time to time. "Of course he does. He had me for over eleven years. Whether he misses me or not is still up for debate, not that it matters. What I do know he's not missing is the concept of babies."

"So what's the next step?" James asks after a stretch of silence, the atmosphere pregnant with unavoidable pity and concern.

"I'll be officially divorced by the end of April." I attempt to tuck some wisps of hair behind my ear as it blows around in the warm night air. "Rose came down and helped me move into in the condo I'm renting in Decatur." Licking the rim of the glass, my mouth rejoices in the sweet sugar seconds before I gulp down the sting of the liquor. The burn is a welcome detractor from the embarrassment of the moment. "Guess it's time to start over."

My brother can't hold his tongue. "Do you really want to stay in Georgia on your own, though? Come down here; be with us in Panama City. Or go back to Jersey with Mom and Dad." He chucks the bottle cap from his fresh beer into a bucket at his feet. "I hate the thought of you all alone."

The watery smile I give Jasper has him furrowing his brow. "I'm already starting my life over again. I don't know if I'm ready to do it in a new city." I shrug. "Leave my job? I love my patients, my colleagues."

"I'm sure there are plenty of nursing homes down here who could use a compassionate social worker and counselor," James hedges. "You should think about it, kid." He gets up, patting my knee just as Jasper stands, too.

"I gotta make a head call." My brother reaches out, squeezing my shoulder for a few seconds.

After both guys make their way into the saloon, I readjust my deck chair so that I'm reclined back and able to gaze at the night sky. It's so peaceful out here. Seems like the stars are closer to earth when you're out on the water. It's a calm I could get used to, especially after the turmoil of the last few months.

I do appreciate their suggestions, but I'm not ready to give up on Georgia just yet. Despite the buggy, hellacious summers, and the fact that my family is hours away from me in opposite directions, I want to try to stick it out and find happiness even though I'm on my own.

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

"Aunt Bella, can I have a hot dog and fries instead of a cheeseburger and fries?" Alex tugs on my arm as we head toward Café Aquaria. "And Sprite!"

I laugh, seeing Emmett's reaction to his five-year-old son, but I answer the little one before Daddy intervenes. "Well, we'll have to see the menu and find out what's available. Does Mommy usually let you drink soda? Or would she want us to order milk for you?"

My godson peeks around the front of me to see if his dad is watching. Strands of his blonde hair fall into his eyes when he leans forward. Emmett's chuckling, pushing the stroller filled with backpacks, purses, umbrellas and a diaper bag. Rosalie ran for the restroom with their daughter, Ashleigh, who announced she had to go to the bathroom "'cause the pee-pees were coming fast."

"Don't think I don't see you, little man. You know Mommy will want you drinking milk."

"Well, can I order soda for dinner?"

This time I start giggling, listening to the pint-sized wheeler-dealer to my left. "We're not gonna eat dinner here at the aquarium, bud. We'll be back at my house and getting ready for the fireworks at the park tonight, right? That's why you wore your awesome flag t-shirt and Ashleigh's dressed in her red, white and blue sundress. It's the Fourth of July; we've got celebrating to do!"

"Oh yeah." He scrunches his adorable face. "Forgot."

We walk through the entryway of the restaurant and Emmett points out an available table but then crouches down to his son's level. "Listen, maybe we can convince Mommy that chocolate milk would be a fun treat for lunch instead of white milk. Deal?"

Alex smiles, giving his father a fist bump. "Deal, Daddy."

"How 'bout if you guys sit and wait for Mommy and Ash, and I'll go find us some menus, or at least take a look at the display to get an idea of what we can order."

"Sounds like a plan," Emmett says, grabbing a booster seat and getting Alex situated. "We'll be here."

I wander toward the counter, my eyes focused on the menu board until my gaze is drawn toward none other than my ex-husband, who's carrying a tray full of food toward the seating area on the right. I haven't seen him since the divorce was finalized back in April, but he looks like he's aged ten years.

Part of me wants to feel sorry for him but the other part wants to laugh. _You did this to yourself, schmuck._ It's not like he's been pounding down my door, desperate for a reconciliation, though, so I can't imagine what's got him looking so stressed. He should be out living the life, no longer tied down to a woman demanding immediate procreation.

Why the hell he's here in Atlanta, at the aquarium of all places, is beyond me. He usually— _we_ usually—spent the holiday weekend out in Hilton Head, partying with some of the upper crust locals his mom and stepdad knew from years of vacationing there.

Even though I've lost my own appetite, I take note of the menu and head back to our table. I can't see where Tyler sat down, but I hope to be able to avoid him because Emmett tucked us in a back corner table on the left. I know I'll have to come clean with Rosalie and Emmett, although I'm not sure they want any interaction with Tyler either. From what I gather, Em hasn't spoken to Tyler since January when I discovered his cheating.

I slide into my chair and lean into Emmett's ear. "No Rose yet?"

"Haven't seen her," he says, then pulls back to get a better look at me, "You all right?"

I shake my head and swallow, feeling flushed. I mouth my ex-husband's name and Emmett sits up straighter in his chair, his jaw tensing. While Emmett appears to momentarily refocus on Alex, who's coloring a picture of a whale shark, I shift in my seat to look around a bit.

That's when I spot Rose, red in the face and marching toward us.

She starts talking before arriving at our table. "We have to get out of here immediately."

I nod subtly, my eyelids fluttering, and whisper, "I know Tyler's here; I saw him."

She hands Ashleigh to Emmett and leans toward me. "Did he see you?"

"Don't think so. He was carrying food away from the service line to the seating area on the other side of the café."

"Uncle Tyler?" Alex calls out, waving.

My breath catches, unprepared to face him right now. I've been having a great day with my best friend and her family up until about ten minutes ago.

I make eye contact with Rose and grab my purse from the stroller, slipping the strap over my shoulder. "I'll meet you at the front door of the aquarium. I don't feel like talking to him, but I understand if you or Emmett need to speak with him."

"Bella—" Rosalie tries to interrupt.

I stand and give her wrist a squeeze. "It's okay, really. Just text me when you guys are heading my way."

"Aunt Bella, look! It's Uncle Tyler!"

I roll my eyes but turn around, ready to offer a civil hello for the sake of Alex, who doesn't quite understand the concept of divorce.

Though I lock eyes with my peaked ex-husband briefly, it's the woman walking up behind him who has my full attention.

The four of us, old friends, freeze without exchanging words while Alex reaches out to high five Tyler.

"How ya doin', Alex?" Tyler's voice is strained, even though he smiles for the little boy. "You having a good summer?"

"Yeah! We came to the aquarium to see the sharks, and later we're gonna see the fireworks. D'you wanna come with us?"

Tyler gives the little boy a polite smile, but he focuses on me, his eyes glassy. He startles when the petite blonde sidles up to him, looping her arm through his.

"Hi," she offers our crowd with what looks like a genuine smile. It almost makes me think she doesn't have a damn clue who she's addressing.

Alex waves. "Hi! Wow, your belly is big. Do you have a baby in your belly?" he says, pointing.

"I do!" she says, cheerfully. If it wouldn't scar Alex and Ashleigh for life, I'd lunge at her in an attempt to rip her head off. Not only for exhaling her whorish air around these two innocent children, but for wearing the tackiest hot pink tank top that says, "Shit happens when you party naked" with a big rhinestone-bedazzled arrow pointing toward her protruding bump.

My head is spinning and I feel like I could vomit at any moment. "I—I've gotta get out of here." My voice cracks while Rose tries to reach for my hand. I step back and turn, chairs scraping as I ram them in my hasty exit.

"Bella, wait, please!" I hear Tyler call after me, but I can't—I just can't.

I fly out of the café, certain I'm having a panic attack. Once I'm outside the building, the humidity hits me in the chest like an anvil, but the fresh air at least forces me to regulate my breathing. Tears spill down my face, and I physically have to swallow the scream lodged in my throat.

She's pregnant. The girl he fucked and threw away our marriage for is going to have his child, and in a few weeks from the looks of her.

No wonder he looks like yesterday's garbage.

I pull my fingers through my hair while I pace, my thoughts like a tornado in my head. It's almost impossible to make sense of them. I'm not, no . . . I don't think I'm sad about Tyler. I don't want babies with him, at least not since January when he revealed his true character.

But she has my life. That woman . . . that tramp stole my husband, the man I planned to spend the rest of my life with, and now he's having a baby with her. A baby he said he didn't want with me.

I feel . . . despondent. I'm at a total loss. I'll be thirty-seven years old in a couple of months, and I've never felt further away from my dreams than I do in this moment.

Everywhere I look, I'm staring at young families, giggling, smiling, enjoying their holiday and making their time count.

I need to make my time count, to make _me_ count again. I just spent the last seven years waiting for someone else to make a decision for my life. I can't allow that to happen anymore. It's time to make what I want and what I deserve a priority.

My life isn't over and I refuse to be a victim. This shit ends now.

After brushing the tears from my cheeks, I dig my phone out of my purse.

Two swipes and one ring later, he answers.

"Jazz, I need a huge favor . . ."

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

* * *

 **A/N: The answers you've been waiting for are up next.**

 **Enormous thanks to my team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay & Momo. The readers and reviewers have been so kind to me and to this story. I'm thrilled that so many of you can relate. And cheers to those of you who've started over at 37, 57, 77 and beyond; it's nothing but a number. Nobody gets to be the authority on your life but you! Make everyday count. **

**I hope to get back to responding to reviews some day soon. Your words and presence mean so much to me, I truly hope you know that. Thank you so much for being here, and I hope to continue to keep you entertained. Much love to all of you.**

 **See you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	13. Chapter 13

**(-)(-)(-) Far Away Flame (-)(-)(-)**

"Sorry your stay with us has been so short, Ms. Swan. I wish you luck."

I smile at the building manager and reach across the desk to shake his hand. "Thanks. It's a fantastic place; I've just decided to head down to Florida to be closer to family." The piercing fluorescent lights in his office are aggravating the perpetual headache I've had for the last sixteen days, but I try to keep my tone chipper.

"I do understand," he says in his thick Russian accent.

"I'll be packed up and out by tomorrow evening, but I'll hold onto my key until the end of the month to come back to check on any mail that may not have gotten properly rerouted to my brother's house."

Mr. Papanov waves. "That will be fine. You drop it off then."

I nod, thank him once more, and pull his office door closed behind me.

"Y'all set in there?" Patrice, the lobby receptionist, questions as she approaches.

"Yup." I point my thumb over my shoulder. "Told Mr. P I'd hang onto the key till the thirty-first just to come back and check my mailbox. I'll be up anyway since my co-workers are taking me out for a bon voyage party."

"Oh, that's nice. Too bad it doesn't include the cruise."

I snort. "No kidding. I could use an endless supply of piña coladas and a crystal blue ocean right about now."

Patrice tips her head back, laughing, while refreshing her mug of coffee at the machine in the common area. "Aren't you heading to Panama City to be with your brother, though?"

"Well, yeah, but I still have to get a job while I'm living there." I say, wistfully, wishing I had a bank account with at least three more zeros at the end. "Once work enters the picture, I don't consider it a vacation destination anymore."

We chuckle together and head toward to her reception desk just as the front door buzzes.

"Oh, gotta run. Make sure you come give me a hug before you jet out of here tomorrow."

"Will do." I send a wave her way before she takes off in the opposite direction.

A few seconds after pressing the button for the elevator, Patrice calls out to me, approaching quickly.

"You've got a visitor."

I step to the side of her to get a glimpse of who's asking for me. I can't see through the tinted and shadowy doors of the vestibule, though. "Who is it?"

"Your ex, I think."

A wave of nausea threatens to collapse over me, even though I've not gotten physically ill since I saw Tyler and Bree in all of her baby-bump glory two weeks ago.

For the sake of Rosalie and Emmett's children, I pulled myself together after the incident at the aquarium so that we could enjoy the fireworks that night and the last couple of days of our visit. It took me all of twenty minutes from the time we left the aquarium until we got back to my apartment to decide that I'd move to Florida to be closer to my brother. There's nothing keeping me in Georgia. Running into Tyler had been bad enough, but to discover that he'd knocked up that hooch, who appeared to be at least ten years younger than I am, sealed the deal. The thought of him being tied down with a child would be comical if it didn't gut me that the wife he claimed was the love of his life had been asking way too much.

What a joke.

He hasn't bothered contacting me since our run-in. Apparently, Emmett laid into him after Rosalie left the restaurant with the kids to meet me outside. I didn't ask for a play-by-play. It's no secret whose side Emmett's been on ever since the affair heard 'round the world, or at least our world.

Tyler couldn't stay away anymore, though.

Forcing my body to move forward until I'm in the lobby, I come face to face with my ex-husband. Patrice slinks back to the chair at her desk, her gaze shifting back and forth between us like we're at Center Court in the finals of Wimbledon. Too bad I don't have a tennis racquet in my hand; the possibilities would be endless.

"I tried calling you at work," he starts out softly. "Terry said you'd taken a few vacation days."

I nod, unable to find the words to begin with this man I used to love so much. The same man who, in a matter of months, cremated my heart and left its memories in ashes on the ground under his mistress's four-inch stilettos.

"Look, I know I don't deserve anything from you—"

"Glad you're aware."

My deadpanned words silence him. He glances down to his feet, his head bobbing subtly after hearing my unapologetic jab. A few seconds pass and he lifts his head. Watching tears pool in his eyes, I'm fascinated as they turn from their normal ice blue color to a brilliant cerulean. He's still beautiful to look at on the outside. It slays me that his insides morphed into a person who thought it was okay to sleep with somebody else.

"I just—just want a few minutes of your time," he explains, his voice breaking. "Need to say a few things, if you'll allow me."

Yes.

No.

Go the fuck away.

Rewind the last year of my life and never break my heart again.

Rewind the last twelve and never exist to me.

My splintered thoughts make perfect sense, but curiosity wins out, so I jerk my head to the side, still looking at him. "All right."

We take the elevator up to my fifth floor condo, not a word spoken between us. I wouldn't know where to begin. There's so much I could say, but I don't even have the physical or emotional energy anymore.

We pass through the towers of boxes stacked four-high in my entryway. Luckily, I never got rid of them, having tucked them in my personal storage locker in the basement of the building since I first arrived back in March. It's like I knew I'd need them in the near future. I just didn't realize how soon that would be, let alone the reason.

Tyler follows me into the living room, watching me fall into the overstuffed chair in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. I don't want to sit on the couch and give him an opportunity to sit next to me. I feel like I've gone full-blown, "get away; boys have cooties" mode.

"Have a seat." I point to the sofa because he's frozen after taking a gander around the room.

"You're moving?"

I sigh, wondering how much I care to tell him versus what he needs to know, which is nothing. "Yup. Georgia's no longer on my mind."

He responds with a single head nod and sits at the edge of the cushion on the couch, his hands rubbing up and down his thighs.

"I don't know where to begin, except to say that I'm horribly embarrassed and so sorry you found out about Bree in the way you did. That was never my intention."

I raise my eyebrows and then puff up my cheeks. "Yeah, that was a bit unexpected. Pardon me if I haven't quite worked my way up to being the bigger person and offering you congratulations. It would seem you're about to be a father in the next few weeks."

"Months, actually. She's not due until November."

I furrow my brow. "Well, since I can't speak from experience, I guess I just didn't realize that it's normal for someone so petite to be showing so much only in their second trimester."

Tyler folds his hands together, tapping his thumbs against each other. "She is petite, but she's showing so much because it's twins." His words become a whisper by the end of his reply.

I sputter out a laugh, but it comes across as more of a whine.

Of course it's twins. Whore, two babies; Bella, zero.

"I suppose if you're going to tie somebody down with babies, especially a guy who never wanted kids, you may as well get the two-for-one deal, huh?"

It's his turn to raise his eyebrows. He doesn't respond, just huffs and shakes his head. "I deserved that, and yeah, I guess that's the way to do it."

I pound my fist on the arm rest. "NO! You don't get to do that. You don't get to joke about this like we're okay. None of this is okay, Tyler!" I shout, jabbing my finger toward him. He looks down at the floor with a shameful nod before being man enough to meet my stare again. "You shit all over our vows that first night you,"—I use air quotes—"had a bad day and got drunk in San Francisco. Instead of calling me to talk through it, scream, cry or whatever, you decided to stick your dick in the first tramp who batted her fake-ass eyelashes at you to get over your bad fucking day!"

"I know. Bella I'm so—"

"No, you begged me to take you back!" I smack my hands together in prayer. "BEGGED!"

"I—I'm—"

"Yeah, I know. You're sorry. I got that part. But what are you sorry for, Tyler? Cheating? Or getting caught?" I tap my fingers on my chin. "Or maybe because you got caught _and_ got your little trick knocked up?"

He closes his eyes, rubbing his fingers across his brow. All the shame and guilt and regret painted on his face like a god damn Van Gogh. "Bella, I—"

"You disgust me," I bite back and allow myself a shuddering sigh. After calming my racing heart for a minute, I dive in again. "But here's the thing, we both know you're not stupid. So, was she malicious enough that she did it to trap you?"

He mumbles, his fist at his mouth. "She claims it was a mistake, but . . ." he trails off, shrugging and rubbing his face.

"I bet she knows how big of a paycheck you pull in."

"Believe me, you're not saying anything I haven't already said to myself. I have no idea if I should stay with her."

I narrow my eyes and lean my elbows on my legs. "Wow. Well, either you've saddled yourself to a woman you don't trust for life, or you've saddled yourself to a woman you don't trust who's now going to raise your kids on her own. Both are stellar options."

"I won't abandon my kids. I may not have wanted any children to begin with, but even if you and I had ended up pregnant, I would've stepped up."

"Well, that's big of you." I roll my eyes, not even sure of who this man is anymore. I thought I knew him. Maybe it's all been a façade that I never allowed myself to see past. "Tyler, can I give you a little advice?"

He tightens his lips and nods.

"Don't blame these babies you're about to have for your mistakes, or their mother's. Your dad walked out on you when you were a kid, and maybe that's the core reason why you never wanted to be a father, yourself." I shrug one shoulder before continuing. "But, your stepfather came into your life and treated you like gold; I mean, that man is a saint. He's always loved you and been in your corner, even if he was pissed at you for fucking up our marriage. You no longer have an excuse about not knowing how to be a dad. You've known for a long time, even if you never allowed yourself to get really close to that man." I point my finger at my ex-husband. "Tom is a good guy, and you better start letting him be your mentor. Whether Bree is next to you or not, you're gonna be a dad for the rest of your life. Don't ever blame those babies for not allowing you to be the free and unencumbered person you apparently always wanted to be." I turn my hands up to give him the bottom line. "It's time to grow up."

He nods and stands, clasping his hands on top of his head. Silence stretches while I watch him start and stop himself from speaking over and over until he finally quits pacing, faces me, and finds his words. "I never wanted this to happen. I still love you so much, Bella." He looks up to the ceiling and back to me as two tears spill down his cheeks. "I just can't believe I fucked things up so badly."

All I can do is sigh.

There was a time in our not-so-distant-past that, had something in our lives been royally screwed, I'd jump right into the fire with him, the two of us going to work and figuring out how to handle the issue until it resolved itself. That's what you do when you're head over heels in love and committed. I wouldn't have given it a second thought.

Not anymore, though. This one's not my problem. Tyler's on his own to sort through all this shit and decide what's best for the rest of his life.

Just like me.

"You might still love me, but you loved your freedom more. And that's why we're here." I refuse to mince words. "You made this bed for us to lie in, Tyler. The only difference is you're stuck with it. I can get up and get out, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

"We're taking the Sea Siren out tomorrow for an overnight." My brother leans on the doorframe of the guest bedroom where he invited me to crash till I find a place of my own. I've hit the three-week mark. Thankfully he's not ready to kick me to the curb just yet. "Wanna come?"

"Who's we?"

He pops a grape in his mouth before answering, his lips contorted to the side of his mouth. "Me, Alice, James, Tracy, and a blast from our past."

I look up from my computer, intrigued. "Marty McFly?"

He smirks. "Better."

"Doc Brown?" I giggle, going back to my job search.

Jasper blurts out a laugh. "Better."

"Well, that's impossible. Nobody's better than a frizzy, white-haired Christopher Lloyd in a radiation suit, yellow gloves, and goggles, dropping plutonium into a DeLorean."

"Maybe you're right. But this guy's a close second." He pauses for just a beat. "Embry Cullen."

Aaaand now my brother has my full attention. Granted, it's not exactly the EC who used to rev my engine at every given turn, but, wow. I shake my head, unable to connect the dots. "Explain."

"When Alice did her residency at UCLA, part of her training occurred on the sidelines at the games for the Galaxy soccer team. She ended up treating Embry when he needed surgery for his torn ACL."

"That's crazy. The world is small, too small sometimes." Putting the name Cullen in my head is not what I need right now. It's bad enough I've had two random yet mighty intense dreams about Edward since that night back in the spring when I watched the video of us dancing together as kids. "So, how did Embry enter into the picture here in Florida?"

"I invited him down for a weekend getaway. Alice ran into him last week up at Emory when she interviewed for her fellowship. They exchanged numbers once he realized it was me she's dating."

"So, he doesn't play for the Galaxy anymore?"

Jasper shakes his head and slides down the wall, munching on some more grapes. "No, retired last year," he says, surprised, like this is common knowledge.

I sigh and prop some pillows up behind my back. "Retired at thirty-four. Must be nice."

"When your knees are shot to shit and you're offered a helluva salary as the assistant head coach for men's soccer at Emory, you consider your options."

"Ahh, point taken. Well, yeah, I'll come out with you guys. It'll be fun to catch up with Embry. Is he bringing anybody?"

"His fiancée, I think."

I smile obnoxiously and give him a double-thumbs up. "Awesome. _Love_ being the seventh wheel."

When I get pelted with a grape to the nose, I give him the stink eye.

"Cut it out. You'll find a wheel."

"Yeah, well, it better happen soon." I stretch to reach the switch on my table lamp. "I found a gray eyebrow hair last night." Waving my arm like Vanna White from my head to my toes, I finish my terrifying thought. "I fear this car is about to be stripped and sold for parts."

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

When I arrive at the marina the next day and board the catamaran, the party is already in full swing.

"Bella fuckin' Swan, how the hell are you?"

I laugh and step into the hug Embry offers. "I've not heard that version of my name since high school." When he releases me, I find that same twinkle in his eye he's always shared with his older brother, not to mention the crooked grin which they both get from their father. "It's good to see you, too. Heard you got a job up at Emory."

"Yup," he says, after a pull from his beer. "Started this week with the students, but the head coach, trainers, and I have already been at it since we arrived in July."

"That's awesome." I grab the wine cooler Tracy offers me after we hug and take a seat next to Embry. "How's the knee holding up?"

"Really great, ever since Dr. Brandon's miracle hands did their trick." His voice gets louder with each word. I know he's just doing it to rile up my brother, who, of course, takes the bait, exiting the cockpit.

"What about my girlfriend's miracle hands?"

Embry chuckles when Jasper comes from behind him and wrings his neck. "Hey, buddy, she asked me for consent to touch my body." His cockiness hasn't changed a bit. "Who was I to deny her?"

We all laugh at Embry's quick retort, just as Alice appears and I stand to greet her. "Yes, yes, everyone wants my hands to perform their magic." She folds herself into Jasper's embrace but continues to scold Embry. "Just don't go trying to show off for your students and end up tearing the other one, _capisce_?"

Embry pulls his fiancée onto his lap as he answers Alice. "Yes, Doc." He turns to me. "Lizzie, I want you to meet one of the coolest fuckin' chicks on the planet," he says, nodding my way. "Bella Swan. She was the only girl we let into our all-boys club growing up in the neighborhood."

"It's great to meet you." She takes my outstretched hand and pulls me into a hug, "I've heard your name mentioned by the whole Cullen clan many times over the years ."

After hearing Liz's greeting, my stomach drops like a damn elevator that's lost its hydraulics. _Whole Cullen clan? Does that mean Edward's talked about me? On more than one occasion? His parents, too?_ My cheeks feel like they're about to burst into flames just as James removes the wine cooler from my hand, replacing it with an extra-large martini glass.

I make eye contact with him and he smiles, his eyes wide while he pours his concoction into my shaking hand. He mouths the words "told ya" and then adds aloud, "Figured you might want something stronger."

.

.

.

While James and Jasper spend the next few hours making dinner, the rest of us relax, enjoying the luxury that surrounds us. '80s music plays in the background, Men Without Hats' "Safety Dance" at the moment. We work on our tans, drinking, laughing, and lounging on the trampolines that stretch across the front of the catamaran. The unforgiving sun has us jumping into the water every half hour, too.

"Y'know, if this were 1988, I'd have used half a bottle of Sun-In by now, hoping my hair was changing color," Alice announces, combing through her wet head.

Liz, Tracy, and I burst out laughing and I add, "What about baby oil all over our skin?"

All the girls groan, knowing we managed to fry ourselves like dummies back in the day. It only took one good burn and we learned our lesson, though. Oil is for frying chicken, not skin.

"I don't think the females from our high school got that memo, though," Embry says, rolling up a towel for under his head. "Shit, have you seen some of their pictures on Facebook lately, Bella? Lizzie set up a soccer page for my fans a few years back. I don't get on there often but when I have, yikes!" He makes a scary face. "Skin looking like shoe leather."

I snicker under my breath. Bet those holier-than-thou girls from back in the day look more like a box of beef jerky rather than a Sexy Six-Pack.

.

.

.

"Okay, you three, get together," I direct James, Jasper and Embry to smile for the camera before I take a series of shots. "Perfect, thank you."

"Who's up for Spades?" Jasper calls out, heading into the saloon. Alice, Tracy, and James all announce that they'll play, following him inside, but I decide to hang back and scroll through the pictures I've snapped throughout the day on my phone.

Embry walks over to take a look at a few of my shots and pats me on the back with a satisfied hum. "The old Tuckerton Tribe of boys together again." His grin turns wistful. "Just missing big E."

I pocket my phone and grab my half-empty California Cooler, both of us turning out toward the water. We clink our bottles together, lean over the bow, and watch the water slosh up against the hull.

It's been fun visiting with Embry today, but also a double-edged sword because so many of his mannerisms are reminiscent of Edward. Their gestures, their posture when they walk. Smiles, laughter . . . it's not easy to try and keep someone in the back of your mind when you're practically staring at their twin for twelve hours.

I figure it can't hurt to ask about Edward, because, let's face it, I'd be stupid not to, considering Emmett's tried tracking him down for years to no avail. I clear my throat of the remaining fruity wine and speak up. "How's your brother doing, anyway? Haven't seen him in eons."

He shrugs, his brow furrowing, and I'm instantly on edge to know more. "He's hanging in there, I guess. Haven't seen him in about two months."

"Is he still up in Jersey at your parents' place?"

"Nahh, he left there like six or seven years ago. My parents sold their house in the Lakes. They're in Arizona now."

"I remember when I ran into Edward last, he said they were out there." Still no definitive answer from Embry, but I've had enough wine coolers and Cosmopolitans that I no longer care about sounding a little too nosy. "Did Edward head out Vegas? I know he mentioned he was thinking of that the last time we spoke."

He huffs, shaking his head. "Yeah, he was there for close to a year but then it all fell apart. He's in Scottsdale near my parents."

"Oh, wow. Well, it's good to be close to family." I snort. "It's certainly the only reason I'm here in Florida. It was either this or back to Jersey."

Embry watches me with a sad smile and nods. "Yeah, I'm really sorry to hear about your divorce." He sighs, his head tipping back. "Life and these fuckin' curveballs, I tell ya. Shitty things happening to good people. I don't get it," he mumbles, finishing off his beer.

"Hey babe, I'm gonna head in," Liz says with a yawn, walking toward us just as I crouch down and sit with my legs dangling over the edge. "You coming?"

"In a bit," he says, settling in next to me but giving her a peck on the lips when she leans down to meet him. "Just wanna catch up a little more with Bella."

"Okay, just don't fall in, you two. 'Night, Bella."

"Goodnight. Sleep well," I reciprocate, watching her retreat then turn back to Embry. "She's terrific."

"She is. And she puts up with my sorry ass, so that makes her terrific-er." He laughs and I join him, both of us feeling a little tipsy, I suppose. "Clearly, that's not a word, but I was never the star student like you and Edward."

I can't take it anymore. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why didn't Edward finish at West Virginia?"

His response is immediate. "Shit got hard." He shakes his head again, his eyes looking a little glassy. "He got sick, and being at school got to be too much on top of that, so he came home."

As soon as the words 'he got sick' leave Embry's mouth, a pit forms in my stomach. _He got sick_. Is he still sick? Is that why he's been off everyone's radar for so long? I suddenly feel like I have a thousand questions on the tip of my tongue, but grilling Embry isn't fair.

When the concept of _how sick_ runs through my head, I find myself on the verge of tears.

"I—I didn't realize." Though I want to vomit, I force myself to ask the next question anyway. "Is he okay now?"

Embry sighs and shrugs. "Depends on how you define 'okay.' Physically, yeah, he'll live, but he's not living. I mean, he's not miserable or anything, but he deserves a fucking carnival for the rest of his life after what he's been through. He'd argue all that, but what can I say?" He opens his arms. "I'm his baby brother. Only ever wanted to see him healthy and happy." Embry shrugs again. "I've tried talking to him about things dozens of times over the last fifteen years. He's stubborn as a mule; says he's fine and doing well, but I don't buy it."

I peel at the label on my bottle, my heart heavy with this news. "Is that why he lost touch with so many of his friends?"

Embry levels me with his stare. "Everybody, Bella. He lost touch with everyone who ever meant anything to him. It was what he wanted."

"But,"—I shake my head, not understanding the logic—"just because he got sick? I mean, was he contagious or something?"

He chuckles. "He's gonna fuckin' kill me for this, but I don't give a shit. You're not gonna run and tell the world."

My eyes widen. "God, no. Never. I just—I've been wondering about him for a while. Concerned . . ." I shake my head and take a deep breath, liquid courage allowing me to come a bit cleaner with Edward's little brother for the moment. "Sounds silly but, I have dreams about him from time to time. It's been that way for years, ever since we were kids. The recent dreams I've had are the ones that've been making me think more and more about him. He's always looking for something." I pause, swallowing the nervous whimper that threatens. "He never finds it. He doesn't seem happy . . . I wake up sad because no matter what I say to him in the dream, I can't make him smile and he walks away from me every time."

He huffs again. "Man, this is surreal," he mutters. "I'm not gonna tell his whole story because it's not mine to tell. But if he knew you were having dreams about him, he'd—"

"He'd what?" I blurt. "I mean—would it freak him out that his recently-divorced, puppy love crush who possibly never completely got over him was having dreams about him almost thirty years later?"

HO-ly crap. I cannot even believe I just said all that. Damn that James, he said the second batch of Cosmos wasn't as strong as the first. I call bullshit.

Embry locks his gaze with mine for a painful stretch of silence. I have to wonder if he thinks I'm certifiable, but instead I find myself trusting what I see as a look of hope combined with regret or happy disbelief.

"Look, he's never said it to me outright, or at least not for a couple of years, but you're probably one of the only people he wishes he still had a connection to, Bella. The rest of the world doesn't count." He looks away, his jaw tensing. "And he learned that shit the hard way."

"Can you tell me what happened to him?"

"You're in the medical field, so maybe you've dealt with this at some point, but he has a genetic disorder that caused him to lose his hair. It started as uneven chunks falling out, bald spots on his head appearing out of nowhere. He didn't understand why it was happening, none of us did. That on top of just struggling to adjust to college life away from home; it made it impossible for Edward to cope." Embry takes a pull from his beer. "Then, it would start to grow back, and he'd be in a better place emotionally. But a few months or even years would pass, and it would happen all over again, but worse every time. It was a complete mind fuck."

I remain frozen, thankful to finally have a little insight into what's been happening, but filled with heartache and confusion for what Edward's dealt with over the years. My mind races like an unbridled horse, and it dawns on me that each time I saw him after high school, his hair was cut shorter and shorter. I never thought twice about it.

Until now. It's alopecia.

"Anyway, like I said, he couldn't handle the worrying, the stress it would cause. He was having massive panic attacks all the time. It was a mess,"—he shrugs, focused on the water—"so my parents brought him back home. He tried to soldier through it once he was in Jersey with a support system, but some people from back in the day were pretty shitty to him. Said some fucked up stuff," he grumbles, shaking his head. "Edward stopped trusting everyone who wasn't family. Anyway, that's what landed him in Scottsdale."

I swipe a tear from my cheek. "I've never been able to get him out of my head . . . out of my heart. It didn't matter that years kept passing and we never dated as teens or adults." More tears pool and spill down my face. "He wouldn't open up to me. I mean, we rarely saw each other, and I knew something bad must've happened, but he never talked to me about it. Then, of course, I got married." I wipe my face again and sniffle. "Doesn't he know I would never—"

"He doesn't," Embry cuts me off. "His mind got so warped after a while. He drank the Kool-Aid in high school. Believed all the superficial lies that came with the crowd of fake-bakes that surrounded him. The friends he thought he'd made in those four years turned out to be the same fucks he couldn't turn to once shit got real years later."

"Why are you telling me all these details, Embry?" I ask, clearing my throat. "I thought this wasn't your story to tell."

He tilts his head to meet my eyes. "There's a whole lot more he can tell you, Bella, believe me. But when I heard you were gonna be here this weekend, I felt like it was the planets aligning or something." He huffs, a disbelieving smile playing at his lips. "Look, I don't know where you are emotionally these days. I know life dealt you a shit sandwich over the last year, but I didn't know when I'd get another opportunity to say this to you. There's nobody in this world, aside from my parents, who cares about my brother as much as I do." He pauses, his shoulder nudging mine. "Unless you'd like to prove me wrong."

I sigh deeply and stare back out on the water. What am I considering here? Could I actually go through with telling Edward how I've always cared about him? That he's always held a piece of my heart? Ask how he feels, _if_ he feels anything for me?

Am I really about to put myself out there after so much time has passed between us? After I just spent almost twelve years loving and trusting someone else? Aren't I damaged? Don't I need to recover more? And what about Edward? After all he's been through, and from what Embry's said, been burned by people he thought he could trust, does he even have the capacity to believe in someone again? Care about them?

I suddenly feel like the Riddler, barraging myself with endless questions I have no answers for. At least not without discovering some first-hand truth.

I need to see Edward.

This could either end in yet another epic catastrophe for me, or maybe, just maybe I could be on the cusp of getting everything I ever wanted.

Embry clears his throat. "I've gotta take a piss. You okay out here?"

Sending him a wistful smile, I nod. As he walks away, my ears perk up in disbelief when I hear "Oh Sherrie" suddenly blaring from the saloon. I jump up and march inside to see who's messing with my head.

"Who just put this song on?" My question comes out like I'm barking at them, but I don't mean to. Well, unless someone is trying to play with my emotions. This crowd wouldn't do that, though.

They all stare—frozen with widened eyes—at me, the loony tune who busted in like SWAT on a raid. Jasper shakes his head. "Nobody, sis," he answers, his brow quirked and a cigarette dangling from his lips. "Just a Sirius station with music from back in the day."

Okay, universe. Point fucking taken.

I take a deep breath and head back out onto the deck to relax my nerves and get my shit together.

Maybe it's time to stop thinking "what if," and act on it instead. Stop rehashing what could've been, if only one of us had actually had the nerve to speak our mind at the time.

Maybe it's time for me to own my feelings and tell him, for once, that he's owned my heart since the day he gave me his mother's ring on that kindergarten playground.

I swallow the boulder that's recently settled in my throat and turn back to Embry, who just rejoined me on the deck. "So, in terms of packing clothes, how hot exactly is Arizona in August?"

* * *

 **A/N: And now you know. You'll find out more details about the disease and how it affected Edward personally, I promise.**

 **So how hot exactly _IS_ Arizona in August? ****You're about to find out. ;)**

 **Love and mounds of thanks to my fiery team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. Could never do this without you, ladies. To all of my fabulous readers, and especially those who take the time to leave me your thoughts, it's so appreciated. I really hope you know that.**

 **See you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	14. Chapter 14

**(+)(-)(+) Far Away Flame (-)(+)(-)**

"Hey, you busy?" I ask, furiously typing on my laptop.

" _Nope. Just put the kiddos down for the night. What's up?"_ Rosalie responds.

"Umm, lots. But it boils down to this, I'm packing a bag and searching for a flight out to Arizona."

 _"Ohhhh-kay, why?"_

My instinctive smile is because I'm happy and nervous and terrified and all the other emotions ever known to man. All of them. "I found Edward, and I know what happened to him."

" _You WHAT? When? How? And you're going to see him?"_ She shrieks into the phone before calling out for her husband. _"Get in here, Bella found Edward!"_

They're murmuring to each other, but it's muffled and not important enough to try to decipher. Looks like it'll be a seven hour flight from Tallahassee to Phoenix for $627; gotta love last-minute fares.

" _I'm putting you on speaker, is that okay?"_ Rosalie asks.

"Yeah, fine," I answer nonchalantly, typing my debit card number into the billing section of the purchase page. "Hey, Em."

" _Bella? Damn girl, how the hell did you find out where Edward is?"_ Emmett sounds stunned.

"Well, my brother had been pretty close to Embry Cullen growing up. Turns out Embry ran into Jasper's girlfriend, Alice, who was his former surgeon. Embry's surgeon, not Jasper's. " I shake my head trying not to confuse them and still shocked by the coincidence. "It's all very six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Bottom line, we were all out on my brother's boat last night, and Embry gave me the gist on what happened to Edward."

" _Okay, so spill."_ Rosalie sounds understandably eager. _"Has he been hiding out west all these years?"_

"Yeah, apparently he did go out to Vegas some time in 2004 to be with that showgirl."

" _Barf,"_ she interjects.

Emmett scolds his wife. _"Behave."_

"Anyway, they didn't last long for whatever reason, and he just went south to Phoenix, err Scottsdale; that's where the Cullens live. He's got his own place, though."

Once I finish the transaction and print my confirmation, I head toward my closet. Next mission is finding my nicest summer clothes and ransacking my hamper for anything else I'd want to bring. Hopefully, it only amounts to one load of laundry I can knock out before I go to bed.

" _You have his address and phone number?"_

"Yup, got it all from Embry. He wants me to go talk to him." Saying the words out loud makes me feel woozy. Between drinking, like, a gallon of alcohol yesterday and being too nervous to eat, my nerves are shot to hell. I brace my hand against the closet door before continuing. "He told me that apparently Edward regrets not keeping in touch with me." I look up, my gaze blurring in the swirling blades of the ceiling fan. The butterflies that've taken up residence in my gut are creating a similar motion. I bite my lip before continuing in a shaky whisper. "He alluded to the fact that Edward might even have or at least had some kind of feelings for me."

Rosalie squeals and claps in the background.

" _Then why did he go underground?"_ Emmett questions.

My shoulders slump, thinking about Edward's circumstances. "He got sick at college. Whatever it was he told you all those years ago had at least been a partial truth. He was stressed, but it had more to do with his sickness and—"

" _Shit, is he better now?"_ Rosalie interrupts. _"Wait—what did he have?"_

"Alopecia."

" _What the hell is that?"_ Emmett asks.

"A disease that—"

Emmett cuts me off again. _"Fuck, is he gonna die?"_

"No, but he'll always have it. It's hair loss, like clusters of hair fall out, over time, for no reason. My quick Google search makes it sound like there are varying degrees of it, but it happens because your immune system attacks your hair follicles. Embry didn't give me all the gory details, but it stressed Edward enough to the point where he couldn't function. I dunno, I've got to do more in-depth research on it so I know what to expect when I see him."

" _Okay, so he's bald. Most of us are going in that direction anyway. What's the big deal?"_ Emmett scoffs. _"That's the reason to drop all your old friends?"_

"Well, I don't think he intended it to happen like that. And keep in mind, this started when he was only twenty years old. From what I gathered, he tried telling a few people from back in the day, and they were really critical and not at all supportive."

Rosalie clears her throat. _"If he went to any of the dumbasses that surrounded him in high school—no offense honey—"_

" _None taken."_

Emmett's reply makes me snort.

Rosalie starts again _. "Well, if he confided in any of those half-wit, see you next Tuesdays, and they were shitty to him, it's no wonder he disappeared. He probably couldn't trust anybody,"_ Rosalie concludes.

" _That still doesn't make any sense to me,"_ Emmett grumbles.

" _Oh, Emmett,"_ she says with a blatant sigh. I can almost picture her patting his hand and murmuring, "there, there, my sweet, naïve husband." _"Here's where you're going to have to trust Bella and me on this one because it has to do with you and popularity and even some females who threw themselves at your feet."_

" _Outstanding."_

I step in. "Emmett, we know you're not full of yourself, and neither is Edward. Neither of you ever were. But, you guys just assumed that those people liked you for you. Lots of guys and girls wanted to be around you because you were the it guys—"

" _But—"_ Emmett cuts me off.

" _Whether_ _you sought it out or not, the popularity was there,"_ Rosalie finishes my thought. _"And then, if that friendship completely vanished one day for superficial reasons like, say, maybe you didn't look the way you once did, but you relied on people you thought were friends to still be there for you and support you, and they decided you weren't worth the effort . . . it screws with your head."_

" _Yeah, but he didn't ask me! I would never have made him feel badly about that. He has a fucking disease!"_ The hurt in Emmett's voice is undeniable, and I can empathize. Except we can't make this about us, even though I understand one hundred percent where he's coming from.

" _Maybe it only takes one or two bad experiences, honey. I mean, you weren't ever best friends with Edward. Yeah, he'd been in your inner circle during high school, but how often did you see him after graduation? That time you and I first met was one."_

" _Of course, but a couple of other instances, too."_ Emmett attempts to make a convincing argument.

"Em, okay, so that was a handful of times over what, four or five years?"

I scrub my hands down my face as we try to connect the dots with only odd numbers and every fifth multiple of three. Not an easy task when we just have a fraction of the details.

" _He wasn't in our wedding party,"_ Rosalie adds. _"He probably got burned right off the bat and then figured it wasn't worth it to tell anybody else."_

Something dawns on me. "And if it happened several times over the years, maybe he went off the radar during the worst of it. I mean, it's not like he graduated high school and has been missing for the last eighteen years. Between the three of us, we've seen him every couple of years, right?" I refocus on my closet, nestle my phone between my ear and shoulder, and start yanking clothes off hangers. Sundresses, shorts, t-shirts, tanks . . . yes, yes, yes, and yes.

" _Yeah,"_ Emmett responds, his voice gruff. _"I guess that adds up to something, but none of us really knows until we get it from him first hand."_

"Like I said, I don't know all the details of his condition, but the one article I read said it could start and then stop. Like it comes and goes, and possibly leads to total body and scalp hair loss."

" _Jesus,"_ Emmett grumbles.

" _Any normal person would be freaked out, wondering if tomorrow would be the day where your hair would start falling out again,"_ Rosalie adds, somberly. _"No wonder he was stressed and had to leave school."_

I take a deep breath and sit on the edge of my bed. Still in disbelief that all of this has happened so quickly and out of the blue.

On the other end of the phone, I hear Alex come into the room, asking for a glass of water.

" _I'll get it for you, buddy,"_ Emmett answers. _"I'm sure we'll talk again soon, Bells. Be safe traveling and tell Edward I'm gonna sock him if he doesn't call me one of these days."_

I chuckle quietly and nod, not that he can see me. "Will do. Take care, Em."

" _Hey."_ Rosalie's voice is closer and clearer, so I know I'm off speaker. _"So, what's the plan?"_

I shake my head. "I don't even know, Roe. I'm excited and terrified all at the same time."

" _So, you're just gonna show up on his doorstep and tell him you'll be his friend?"_

"Uhh, yeah. That's the big plan right now," I grunt, on my hands and knees with my head in the closet, digging through my shoes to find the sandals, flip-flops, and sneakers I need. "I don't have a job here yet, so I've got nothing tying me down to Florida at the moment. As for Edward, I have no idea if he'll slam the door in my face, laugh his ass off, smile and be nice . . . I'm in the dark." Strappy, black sandals- winner! "Obviously, I'm hoping for door number three."

" _Yeah, there's no way he's going to be less than . . . well, Edward,"_ Rosalie adds. _"He's too nice. And if Embry's already told you that Edward regrets shutting you out¸ he'll probably be thrilled that you've appeared out of nowhere."_ She hums. _"Wonder what he looks like."_

Sighing, I lie back on the floor. "Well, from the picture Embry had on his cell phone, he's still gorgeous. He's tan as hell year-round, wears wire-framed glasses and had on a backward baseball cap in one picture and a golf cap in another."

" _Aww, I'm sure he pulls it off really well. I just hate that he was met with such bullshit he felt his only recourse was to shut everyone out."_

"Everyone but his family," I add. "Embry said he's fought with Edward over the years to track down the friends who've attempted to find him, but Edward's always blown him off."

" _Too much is on the line. After you touch a hot stove enough, you learn, I guess. I feel awful for him."_

I nod. "Well, listen. I'm gonna finish getting my stuff together tonight. My flight leaves at ten and I'll be in Phoenix by three in the afternoon." My stomach twists, realizing I'll see Edward in less than twenty-four hours.

" _Okay, is there anything I can do for you from up here?"_

My gaze scans the room while my mind tries to come up with something of use. "Umm, maybe do some more research? I'll call you in the morning when I'm heading to the airport."

" _I can do that."_

"Thanks. I'll try to read some more before I crash for the night, but yeah, anything you can come up with will make me feel a little more armed and able to speak intelligently when he and I are face-to-face."

" _Okay, sis. Get some rest,"_ she adds. _"I want to say I'm happy for you, but maybe that's a little premature."_

"Yeah, at this point let's just stick with, 'glad you found him and hope your plane doesn't crash."

" _That'll work,"_ she says with a laugh. _"Love you."_

"Love you, too. G'night."

 **(+)(-)(+)(-)(+)(-)**

While I'm upside down, blow drying my hair, Jasper's legs come into view at the doorway to the bathroom. I flip my hair and stand up, glancing at the mirror in the process. _Yikes, wild woman_.

I attempt to tame the mane while my brother chuckles, sweeping his hand over the counter. "It's been a long time since we've shared a bathroom, and I've found your hair all over the sink."

"True. Makes you nostalgic for the good ole days, huh?" I add a little spray, knowing it'll never hold for the next ten hours, and it's all going to end up in a clip anyway. "So, what's up?"

He folds his arms, leaning against the door frame. "Nothing. Just wanted to see you off, give you a pep talk, reason with you . . . all the above."

I smile and huff. "Thanks," I say, reaching for my make-up bag. "Any final words of wisdom?"

"I want you to be careful, I guess. I mean, I'm not worried for your safety when you're around Edward, but you've had a difficult year, and I don't want you to get hurt . . . again."

I click my foundation compact closed and glance down. "I know. I don't want to get hurt either. But at the same time, I don't feel completely invested yet, does that make sense?"

He quirks his brow. "Sorta?"

I swipe the blush brush over my cheek and slip it into my bag. "Not that I've had a lot of time to think this over, and honestly it's better this way. Because if I sat around for a few weeks, mulling over all that Embry told me, I'd chicken out and never make a move. As far as my feelings are concerned, though, I'm in a position right now where, yes, I know I've always cared about Edward. But it was always at a distance, you know?" I pull my mascara from the bag and unscrew it, still talking. "I didn't know him well enough to let him into my adult heart or vice versa. Though we've known each other since we were little kids, that was thirty years ago. It was a sweet place to start, but now? We're starting over, so I'm not terrified that this is going to blow up and crush me for the rest of my life. Does that make sense?"

He nods, passing behind me, and comes around to lean his hands behind him on the counter with his back to the mirror. "Yeah, I get what you're saying."

I shrug, finished with the mascara, and trade it for lip gloss. "If he'd been my boyfriend as an adult and we were getting back together after a time apart, I'd be so much more emotionally invested and worried about how this could all play out. But, beyond him thinking my sudden arrival is a horrible invasion of privacy—which has crossed my mind, believe me—I'm hoping to just start over with him. Be his friend, if he wants one . . . if he wants me."

"You've got the biggest heart, Bells. How could he not want you to be his friend?"

I smile, remembering Edward said something similar when we were kids playing in the street. I just hope he still feels the same way. "Thanks, Jazz."

My baby brother stands up straight and pulls me in for a hug. Even though I've got two years on him, he's got almost ten inches on me. "You know I love you. Just be smart but have a great time. I hope being there makes a positive difference for Edward. He deserves it and you definitely do, too."

 **(+)(-)(+)(-)(+)(-)**

I spend the first hour of the car ride listening to an audio book on alopecia. My mind is spinning, but hearing the information helps prepare me for what Edward has gone through: the emotions, the turmoil, the paralyzing anxiety.

No, it's not cancer or some crippling disease where he can't ever function in full health again, but from a social standpoint, it's a devastating change that comes from nowhere. The stigma that comes with it is the worst part. It's no wonder Edward disappeared for months or years at a time. I just hope he's in a place now, emotionally, where he'd be open to reconnecting to a friend from his past. One who'll be understanding and non-judgmental. One who would've been there from the beginning had either one of us reached out.

We can't live with regret, though. It'll get us nowhere. For now, I'm hoping for a smile and maybe a fresh start with the boy who used to mean so much to me and made an imprint on my heart forever ago.

The sun glares through my windshield as I adjust my visor, heading east toward Tallahassee International Airport. My plan is to park in the short-term lot, but Jazz said he'll come by and pick up the car if I end up staying out in Arizona longer than a week. I didn't want to be too hasty by opting for the long-term lot, assuming all would be sunshine and rainbows with meeting Edward. With the way my luck has played out this year, I can't be too cautious. Short-term lot, it is.

.

.

.

"Okay, did you learn anything pertinent?" I ask Rosalie, hitting Route 10 for the last leg of my drive.

" _Just that there are three types. He could have the kind where he just loses patches of hair on his head. Or his entire scalp can go bald, or he could have lost the hair all over his body, too."_

"Yeah, that much I knew, but I have no idea what I'm walking in on. It felt wrong to grill Embry, and I couldn't tell from the pictures if he had hair on his arms and legs." I sigh, my nerves starting to get the better of me and I start to whine. Maybe this was a really dumb idea.

" _Hey? You still with me?"_ Rosalie barks. _"Don't chicken out, Isabella Swan. I know that sound. You made those same noises in Algebra II when we were inundated with horrendous math problems we couldn't figure out. God, those spiral reviews sucked."_

"Not helping," I say, grabbing for my bottle of water and chugging, kind of wishing it was Zima. Ahh, the good ole days. "I hated that class with a passion. You were the only good thing that came out of sixth-period algebra."

" _You're damn right, and I'm gonna keep reminding you of that until they close the lid on my coffin. Until then, though, let's look at the bright side, here. What would the big deal be about a lack of body hair? Professional athletes shave everything off all the time, makes them more aerodynamic."_

I roll my eyes. "Thanks for that insight into the physics of it all. Not sure if I'm going to open with that, though, Dr. Phil."

She snorts and we both start laughing.

" _I'm just trying to distract you and remind you that you're awesome, and Edward thinks so, too. Even if he's shocked you're there and it's a little uncomfortable when you first arrive. You'll find your groove, you always do. You're a social worker and a counselor, for crying out loud! You got this!"_

"Yeah, I know. But a lot of that is easier said than done. I don't know what to expect. I mean, obviously he's a healthy person. Embry would've told me if that weren't the case. But, Jesus, it's been over seven years since I've seen him. I lived an entire lifetime without putting eyes on him, Roe! The whole span of my married life existed between Edward's and my point A and the arrival of our point B."

" _I know. But it's gonna be okay, Bells. You've got to believe that. No matter what happens after today, tomorrow, next week . . . whatever. At least you'll know you tried to reach out, knowing the whole truth, and if for no other reason, you can say you finally told him your real feelings that you've wrestled with for the last thirty years. Thirty fucking years, Bella. It's time, honey."_

I nod, passing another green sign for the airport and feeling the nervous twists in my belly flare up.

" _This doesn't even have to be about his illness. Make this about you. 'Edward, it's great to see you. I'm divorced and have been in love with you since we were zygotes. Your thoughts on the matter?'"_

I bust out laughing and she joins me. Thank God for this woman on the other end of my phone. Once I regain my composure, I sigh.

"You rock. Thank you, I needed that."

" _Good. Glad I got you to giggle. How much further till you're there?"_

"Less than twenty minutes, according to the GPS."

" _Do you have a plan for the flight?"_

"Yeah, I'll be trying not to vomit from nerves while studying the forty-seven articles on alopecia I downloaded last night. Figured I'd stay busy with a little light reading."

" _Light reading."_ She snorts. _"Good deal."_

I hear sudden wailing in the background and Rosalie groans. _"Crap, the minions have risen and they're already at each other's throats."_

"No worries. You go be Mom and I'll check in with you before I take off."

" _Okay. Drive safely, and we'll chat again soon."_

 **(+)(-)(+)(-)(+)(-)**

Stepping out of Sky Harbor International Airport, I never expected the makeup I'd just reapplied on the plane would instantly melt from my face. Pretty sure it's about four thousand degrees. A fucking kiln. They boast there's no humidity here, but I'm unimpressed. Four thousand degrees is still four thousand degrees. Okay, so maybe it's not four _thousand_ , but it's one hundred four.

Close enough.

I head back inside and change into something more lightweight. The best choice is a tangerine sundress that looks great against my tanned skin. It was either that or a camisole and matching panties, and I thought it a little presumptive to be wearing only that when I waltz up to Edward's door.

Once I make myself presentable again, I head back out into the pressure-cooker that is the city of Phoenix and find my rental car. I shoot off a quick text to Rosalie and Jasper letting them both know I landed safely and am heading to Edward's next.

After popping a piece of gum, I plug in the address Embry gave me and start my fifty-two-minute road trip to East Cavalry Drive in Scottsdale.

.

.

.

"Drive point two miles to destination 9451 on left." The robotic female voice leads me down the final stretch of my journey.

I approach the house, gawking at the outside, and see a truck with the hood propped open in the driveway, but nobody in the vicinity. Naturally, I keep driving because what the fuck was I thinking, just showing up at Edward's door when we haven't spoken in almost seven and a half years?

"Recalculating. Drive four hundred feet and turn right onto East Wagon Circle."

I pass that one, too.

I'm going to be ill.

"Recalculating."

"Quit judging me!" I scream at the car, clearly having lost my marbles.

"Drive one hundred feet and turn right onto North Ninety-third Place."

I make the suggested turn before the GPS lady makes any more snappish comments. Once on the side street, I pull over and shut off the engine.

Leaning my head forward on the steering wheel, I take several deep breaths until I realize that turning off the car was a grave error. I can no longer breathe in the oven that my vehicle has become in the last fifteen seconds.

"Get it together, Bella Marie." I look at my face in the rearview and run my fingers under my eyes to remove the melting eyeliner. _Still presentable enough_.

Let's do this.

I drive back toward Edward's, but stop at the house before his and wait to see if anyone will come back to the truck that's being serviced in the driveway.

I'm smart enough to leave my engine running this time, but after a few minutes, sitting idle reduces the inflow of cold air.

 _Does every system in this car insist on mocking me?_

I grab my phone and text Rosalie.

 **I'm here and I can't move. Say something to make me move.**

 _OMG. Okay, what do you see? Is he home?_

 **A pickup is in the driveway and the hood is up. Garage door is open. No sign of life, though.**

 _Give it a few minutes. I'll wait._

We don't even need ten seconds because he appears from the other side of the truck and walks around the front. He's carrying what looks like wiper fluid and some other gallon of liquid. I send another message to my girlfriend.

 **Holy shit, I'm staring at him.**

 _EEEEEP! Does he see you? What does he look like?_

 **He hasn't noticed me, I don't think. He's wearing jeans in hundred-degree weather, a t-shirt, and he's got a dark blue bandana on his head.**

 _Wait a sec, is it tied on the top of his head like Tupac? Or a sexier look like Eric Nies from season one of_ The Real World?

I shake my head. Only Rosalie would come up with these references from a reality star we thought was dreamy back in 1992.

 **Eric Nies. Definitely sexy. He's wearing sunglasses, too. Jesus, he's still so damn good-looking.**

 _Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Go say hello, crazy train!_

 **I have stage fright. This could end hideously.**

 _Bells, I have no words of wisdom except to say maybe it won't, but you'll never know until you try._

 **Okay. I'm going.**

I slip my phone back in my purse just as Edward slams the hood and heads back into his garage, closing the electric door behind him.

Alrighty . . . time for plan B.

I muster the courage to step out of my car.

I make my way to his front door like I'm on _The Green Mile_ , and I just enjoyed a Belgium waffle with fresh strawberries and extra whipped cream for my final meal. At least I can ring the bell at his door and not creep up on him while he's bent over the engine of his truck.

A hundred thoughts whizz through my head but the blaring one is, why in the world did you ever think this was a smart idea?

Not only do I not have a chance to argue with myself, but as I reach the door and press my quaking finger against the bell, I realize I never rehearsed what I would say to him when we came face to face. I instantly step back and turn to escape down his front path, but I'm too late. The whoosh of the rubber flap along the bottom of the door alerts me to the fact that I'm no longer alone, so I take a deep breath and swing my body around.

Timidly, I smile and pull my sunglasses down my face, inching closer to the front stoop.

Edward draws his head back, a bewildered—but thankfully not disgusted—look on his face. "Bella?"—he shakes his head in the slightest way—"Wha?"

"Hi," I respond quietly, and move forward, now a whole four feet away from the man himself.

My heart is a sledgehammer in my chest. He's still so beautiful; his faint smile, his thoughtful eyes, the timbre of his voice. It's all perfect, and I know that beauty has always matched his personality and soul. He's the boy I fell in love with all those decades ago. He's still _my_ Edward.

"I uhh,"—I point my thumb over my shoulder—"I was just down the road,"—more thumb shaking, finding my words through the stammering—"in uhh . . . Florida." I shrug, biting the inside of my cheek. "Figured I'd s—swing by on my way home . . . and say hello."

A confused grin creeps onto his face as his head dips forward. "You came here from Florida? On your way home?" He looks past me, probably trying to find the cameramen from _Punk'd_ hiding in the bushes, ready to pounce.

I nod, my idiotic head sort of bobbing along, trying to come up with a plausible answer that won't make me sound even more asinine than I already do. "Yeah . . . it was on my way."

He steps down from the doorway, shrinking our distance to a mere two and a half feet. "Home to where?"

I take another deep breath and blow it through my puffed cheeks, tick-tocking my head back and forth. "A different city . . . in Florida."

While he's laughing through a huff, he blesses me with his same gorgeous smile that hooked me all those years ago. He studies me, probably trying to figure out if I'm an illusion or—in fact—the nutty girl who just announced she traveled over sixteen hundred miles, without invitation, to say hello.

I don't probe him with my eyes, but I can plainly see that he still has eyebrows and eyelashes as well as some blondish hair on his arms. He's even more tan than the picture Embry showed me over the weekend, and he looks extremely healthy, his arm muscles more defined than I ever remember. It gives me some comfort to see for myself that he's not forced himself into the shadows to live a life of solitude, even if he struggles with massive anxiety brought on by this condition.

"Okay," he says, seemingly satisfied with my ridiculous reasoning. "Wanna come in for a glass of water or something?" He quirks his brow, still grinning. "I mean, before you head home . . . to Florida."

My responding chuckle matches his. Clearly, we both know the jig is up. It's time to come clean.

I clear my throat. "That'd be great."

* * *

 **A/N: Many thanks to my fiery team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo . . . they're my Fantastic Four. I am so in love with my readers and those who've taken the time to leave me their thoughts and feelings about the chapters. Your sensitivity toward Edward's condition is very much appreciated.**

 **I've been honored to make it through to the second round of voting for Favorite Veteran Author in the TwiFic Fandom Awards. Thank you to the person or persons who nominated me and those who pushed me through to round two! If you'd like to cast a vote my way, you can visit the website at www*twific fandom awards* blo gspo t *com /** **p/vote. html (just squish all that together and insert periods instead of the asterisks). There are so many wonderful people and stories nominated- to include our very own Born Onhalloween and LayAtHomeMom! Go check it out when you have a moment. You can vote until 11:59 pm on Saturday night.**

 **Thanks again for reading and reviewing. EPOV chapter is coming up next! See you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	15. Chapter 15

**Welcome to EPoV! For "years" you've wondered what's been going on in his head . . . this gives you a pretty good idea, even though there are still lots of details we'll continue to learn further down the road. This will take us up to where the last chapter left off so that we know where both character's heads are before we move forward. Take note of the year below, 2004; this chapter starts just after Bella & Edward spent that final night reminiscing around town before her bachelorette weekend. Chapter song: "Walk" by Foo Fighters.**

* * *

 **(+)(-)(+) Far Away Flame (-)(+)(-)**

 _EPOV_

 _April 2004_

My brother's rental car pulls into the driveway, and I rush outside. It's been too damn long between visits. A rock that sneaked its way onto the path causes me to stumble, but I right myself and yank open his door.

"Hey!" I say, wrapping him into a bear hug. "Missed you, man. Thanks for making the trip."

He pats my back, chuckling. "Missed you, too, E." When he pulls away, he gives me a funny look. "Did you start partying before I got here?"

I laugh, holding up my beer. "I juss had a few. Steaks are on the grill, potatoes are in the oven. Come in, come in. Lesss catch up!"

I offer to help him with his bag, but he waves me off, and we head back up to the house.

"Whoa!" I laugh again, losing my footing but catching the hand rail on the steps up to the door. "I need to replace those loose bricks. Been tripping over them for months now."

Embry drops his duffel in the foyer and raises his eyebrows at me. Mom used to give me the same look all those times I told her I didn't have any homework on a school night.

"You sure you're not the one who's loose?" He takes the beer from my hand and holds my shoulder while we walk into the kitchen. "How many is a few?"

I fall into a chair at the table, smiling, just happy that my baby brother is in town for the weekend.

"Edward?"

"Hmmm?" I hear my name, my head turning toward his voice, and I open my eyes.

"I asked you how many beers you had. When did you start drinking?"

Shrugging, I reach for the collection of mixed nuts sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. This basket's been filled and refilled countless times since about 1978. It's one of a million silly staples of my childhood. It may seem insignificant, but I'm glad it's still here and available even though my parents are out west now. Being here in Medford Lakes, surrounded by what has always given me the most comfort, helps me remember when things weren't so fucked up in my head.

"Edward!"

I focus on my brother again. "I don—I dunno. Maybe seven, eight o'clock?"

"THIS MORNING?"

I snort and shake my head. "Nooooo," I correct him. "Last night."

"The fuck? You've been drinking for fifteen hours?"

Embry starts slamming cabinets. Looks like he's prepping the coffee pot. Don't know why, though. Who drinks coffee with steak and potatoes at lunch?

"You trying to kill yourself?" he shouts, scooping out the coffee from its canister.

I wave my fingers toward the counter. "You—you're makin' a mess. Gettin' the grounds—grinds all over ever-thing."

Once he finishes with the coffee pot, he grabs two mugs from the cabinet and plunks them on the table in front of me. It's kinda loud. Makes me squint.

"Dude," he says, sighing, "Can I ask what the hell you're doing, drinking since last night?"

"I'm ceber, cebral—celberrating," I finally answer correctly, my cheek leaning on my hand. "It's been a happy twenty-four hours."

Embry opens his arm, shrugging. "So, what are we celebrating?"

I clear my throat for the grand announcement. "Isabella Marie Genevieve Swan is gettin' married today." I hold up my empty coffee cup with a smile, but my chest hurts, hearing my words.

"Genevieve?"

"Her confirmation mane . . .mame . . . name." My words sound garbled, but I don't feel like moving my hand just yet. "Dontchu remember when we went to her confirmation party when we were in eighth grade?"

He smiles and shakes his head. "No, E. I don't remember. That was like, what, sixteen-ish years ago?"

"Hmmm, Bella," I say, closing my eyes again. "I r'member all of it. She's . . . she's . . . she's very rememberable . . . memberable."

.

.

.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, where're we going?" I ask Embry, who's got my arm wrapped around his shoulders while he drags me up the stairs.

 _When did we get here?_

"You're going to sleep this shit off."

He leads me to my bed, and I land on my face. The cool air tickles my feet when he pulls my sneakers off, but the blanket he tosses on top of me warms them again.

"Go to sleep, Edward. We'll talk when you're coherent."

.

.

.

When I wake up, it's dark outside. I rub my face, my brain throbbing inside my skull. I feel like complete shit. Drinking my weight in whiskey and then beer was clearly not the answer.

I stumble into the bathroom, tripping over my sneakers, but manage to find some Tylenol in the medicine chest before turning on the shower.

The steam rises while I lean against the door, caught up in a sea of emotions and memories. I remember when Mom would bring me into this bathroom on nights when I'd have a terrible cough and cold. She'd sit in here with me on the ledge of the tub while the bathroom got really hot and the mirror fogged up. Somehow sitting in the steamy room would help clear my lungs a bit. She always did her best to help me through childhood illnesses.

Too bad twenty minutes in a sauna-like bathroom can't solve this one.

Once the billowing hot mist takes over and I lose my reflection in the mirror, I step into the shower. The soothing water runs down my aching body, putting me in a trance. In that moment, my mind is dragged back, remembering other sicknesses from when we were kids . . .

I turned onto the front path of Bella's house and rode all the way up to the doorstep. I usually just let my bike fall over, but Mr. Swan really liked his flowers, and I didn't want to crush them, so I knocked my kickstand into place and made sure my bike was steady.

After ringing the doorbell, I let the heavy backpack fall off my shoulders. Carrying double the amount of seventh-grade books and homework was even harder when you had to ride uphill.

The door opened and Bella stood there in her pajamas, looking confused.

"Hey. How're you feeling?"

She shrugged and stepped back as I followed her inside, closing the door behind me.

"Itchy, but Mom says I can't scratch 'cause that'll make them worse."

"Bummer."

Bella turned back to face me. "So, what's up? I don't know if you should be here. Mom says I'm contagious."

"I already had chickenpox," I said and knelt down to dig through my backpack. "Since our brothers are away on their fifth-grade class trip, I knew you'd need your school work and homework."

Bella sat down in front of me. "Edward, you didn't have to do that," she said softly, "but thank you."

"You're welcome. We have that geography test on all the countries in Africa at the end of next week, so I knew you'd want your map to study." I smiled when she smiled. "Plus we're diagramming those sentences in English, and if you don't learn it, then who will help me when I get confused?"

She laughed at my silly joke while I put her Trapper Keeper and the pile of books and papers on the couch for her.

"Thanks a lot," she replied. "I don't know when I'll be back to school. I didn't see any new pox pop up on my legs or stomach today, so maybe it's ending . . . at least I hope it is."

"The ones on your face make you look like Tom on _Tom and Jerry_ when he got the measles or something."

"WHAT?" she screamed, leaping up and running out of the living room. I followed her into the bathroom just as she started to wail, looking at her reflection.

"EDWARD! Why didn't you tell me I looked like this?" Bella threw a towel over her head and stood there looking like a blue ghost. She made me laugh.

"I'm sorry!" I couldn't stop giggling. "I thought you knew they were on your face, too."

She pointed at me. "Go! You've gotta get out of here. You can't see me like this!" She moved forward and after bumping her hip into the sink, she pushed on my shoulders. "Go, go!"

I kept laughing and turned to head toward the front hallway. "I'm not making fun of you," I said, zipping up my backpack and hoisting it onto my shoulder. "I just missed your freckles, that's all."

She dropped her hand and crossed her arms, her head still covered by the blue towel. "I didn't even know they were missing," she mumbled.

"I'm sorry for laughing, Bella. It was _your_ reaction that did it to me. You always make me laugh. I hope you know I'd never make fun of you."

The towel nodded and I smiled.

"Okay, well . . . I'll get out of here." I opened the door, stepping out, but said over my shoulder, "Hope you feel better soon."

"Wait, Edward," she called and lifted the edge of the towel so that it rested on her head. She looked like Mary from the Christmas Nativity play at Sunday school. "Thanks for bringing my work to me. I just got embarrassed because . . . well . . ." she lifted her hand and shrugged.

"Why?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Because you're a cute boy, okay?"

I smiled but shook my head, just as embarrassed as she felt. _Does she really think that?_ "It's just me, though. It's us. Just Bella and Edward, right?" I got her to smile and that made me happy.

"Right."

"I'll see ya," I said, getting on my bike as she closed the door with a wave.

Two weeks later, I answered my front door and found Bella holding a pile of books. She had tears in her eyes.

"Hi," I greeted her, "you all right?"

"Your mom called my mom." She sniffled. "I did this to you. I'm so sorry."

I shrugged. "S'okay. It's my fault for getting it wrong. I thought I had the chickenpox when I was a little kid. Turned out it was just hives."

At least that made her giggle. "Well, I'm still sorry. How are you feeling?"

I scrunched up my nose. "Itchy."

"Everything you need is there." She passed the stack of work to me. "The test on Africa wasn't too bad, as long as you memorized your countries. Oh, and study the capitals, too. Mr. Bertie will give extra credit if you add some capitals to your map."

"Cool, thanks for the tip."

"Well,"—she pointed her thumb over her shoulder—"I'm gonna go, I guess."

"Okay. Thanks for this." I held up the books. "My brother could've gotten my work, you know."

She smiled and took a few steps away. "I know." She shrugged. "I wanted to. Anyway, I hope you feel better."

"Thanks, Bella. I—I miss riding to school with you," I confessed, feeling a little silly, but I did miss seeing her. She crinkled her brow, but I continued, "We haven't ridden together in over three weeks with you sick first and now me."

"Yeah," she said, looking bummed, but then looked back at me. "I miss your freckles, too."

The cool water running down my back snaps me out of the memory of Bella and me as kids, always helping each other out and just wanting to spend a little more time together. I fucking hate that it didn't stay that way.

I scrub my hands over my face, wiping moisture from my eyes, no longer sure if it's shower water or the annoying tears that've been welling up rather easily over the last few weeks since she and I spent that night together reminiscing and driving around town.

You fucked up, Cullen. Trusted the wrong people, and now the one who might've made all the difference in the world is gone for good.

.

.

.

"Hey," my brother says after I trudge into the living room. He mutes the soccer game he's watching. "You feeling any better?"

I lie and nod anyway, stretching my neck while it crackles like a bowl of fucking Rice Krispies. "Sorry I've been out of commission all day."

"Eh,"—he waves his arm—"there're still a couple hours left before the day's over."

I roll my eyes, now wishing I'd stayed unconscious till tomorrow morning.

We're quiet for a few seconds before he begins. "So, you have anything you wanna talk about? I don't think I've ever seen you that out of it before."

"What did I say before I passed out?"

"You said you were celebrating because Bella Swan was getting married." He finishes his beer and puts the bottle on the coffee table.

Leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, I clasp my hands and nod. "Sounds about right."

Embry looks confused, scratching the stubble growing along his jaw and shrugs. "You wanna fill in the blanks a little better for me?"

"She came into PJ's a couple weeks ago. We spent a few hours hanging out after I got done at work, just driving around town," I explain, cracking my knuckles into my other palm. "Being with her was fantastic, but at the same time I got this sick feeling in my gut as the night wore on." I blow out a frustrated breath, my vision blurring while I stare at the family photos on the wall. "I realized I missed her." I shake my head, still sickened with regret. "And she was just as fucking special as I knew she was when we were kids."

"Okay, so she's special. This isn't news, E." I make eye contact with him while he continues. "What I want to know is why does it have you drunk as a skunk?"

"'Cause maybe she could've been somebody I trusted who wouldn't have walked away," I mutter, still lost in the wall pictures of Embry and me in grade school. The answer is second nature, and it's been eating away at me ever since we said goodbye that night. "I held onto people who were bullshit."

"Look, I don't feel like turning this into another go-round of us arguing over why you shut out some of your closest friends. You know how I feel about that. So, I'll just ask why didn't you tell her how you felt?"

I cock my head at my delusional brother. "Are you serious? Fuck with her head right before her wedding? I'm not that big of an asshole."

"Telling her you missed her friendship and she was still the great girl you remember wouldn't fuck with her head . . ." Embry sits straighter in his chair, his head now tilted in curiosity. "Unless there's more you would've tried to tell her."

I lean back on the chair and swing my clasped hands to the top of my head, shrugging after a few quiet seconds. "I don't even know her anymore, so wondering if something could've happened between us ate at me for a little while, yeah. But then I sucked it up, knowing it was a moot point anyway with her wedding right around the corner."

"Who's she marrying?"

I roll my eyes, more than a little revolted at the coincidence. "The same fucker who went home with Leah the night of Emmett's wedding."

"Leah Clearwater? Shit, I haven't heard you say her name in years. What's she been up to?"

"Hell if I know, and who the fuck cares? Once I started losing hair again, she hightailed it out of my life for good."

Embry sighs, his eyes fixed on my hairline. "Looks good right now, though. You keeping it short on purpose?"

I nod and look away. "I figure if I start losing again, it's cut close to bald now anyway; so it wouldn't be much of a shock to see myself in a mirror. Not like when it first happened."

My brother spins the bottle cap he's been fiddling with. "So, you've just been counting down the days till Bella's wedding?"

I snort. "Hardly. I did my best to put her and our night out of my head—"

"You've gotten good at that," he interrupts.

"You gonna let me finish?"

He raises his palm and I continue.

"Anyway, I hadn't thought about it again until last night. I met a couple of guys I work with for drinks at Braddock's. Saw her there from a distance; she didn't see me, though. She was going up to the second floor with her family and a bunch of people I didn't know." I play with the lighter my uncle left here last week. "Didn't think anything of it till I ran into Emmett, who was there with his wife and Bella's group. Turns out it was her rehearsal dinner."

Embry hums. "How's Em doing?" My brother's segue isn't a surprise.

"Really good. Teaching up in North Jersey. His wife had a baby last fall. He seems happy." I think about it some more, remembering the awkwardness, knowing he's tried tracking me down, and I've never bothered to call him back. "I was glad to see him. He didn't question how I looked."

Embry shrugs. "He never would, E. It's not Emmett's style."

We're both silent again, not poking at the pink elephant sitting between us. Embry and I have done this dance before. He thinks I shut down too easily, getting rid of everyone in my life who mattered after a few of the ones I _thought_ were important let me down.

"Did you get his number?"

I nod, rubbing my hands over my face.

A few more seconds pass.

"You gonna use it?"

I eye him. "Leave it alone. Em."

He stands, huffing. "Yeah, okay. I learned a long time ago you're gonna do this your own way. But if Emmett thought you were a piece of shit for dropping off the radar—hell, even if Bella did—they both already proved you matter to them or else they would've walked on by, just like every other asshole who watched you lose your fucking hair did, figuring you weren't worth it anymore."

He walks out of the living room, opens and slams the fridge, and I hear a few buttons beeping on the microwave. Reheated steak and potatoes. Gross. Yet another part of the day I managed to fuck up royally.

"And another thing," he calls out, re-entering the living room. "All those little tricks who pined away for you in high school and college were worthless. You knew it then; that's why you never got into a serious relationship with any of them. They made you fucking think you mattered to them because you were a good-looking jock. But when the rubber met the fucking road, they were gone."

"I thought you said we weren't getting into—"

He points his finger at me, cutting me off. "I don't give a shit what I just said. Our cousin dealt with this disease since when he was a little kid! Aunt Tammy and Uncle John made it work because those were the cards their family was dealt. Genetics hit you too, bro, and I'm sorry. If I could switch places with you, I'd do it in a heartbeat." He storms toward the kitchen again but swings himself around once more. "But you're _not_ dying. You're not _gonna_ die. So you lost your hair! It grew back!"

"It could happen again, Embry!" I shout, standing and pushing past him. "Any day I could wake up to patches of hair falling out all over again. Eyebrows, eyelashes, legs, everywhere! And then it could be gone for good!"

"And so what if it is?" He folds his arms across his chest. "You don't need to become a hermit again."

"I wasn't a hermit," I say with a growl. "I might've lost touch with people from my past, but I've continued to live my life."

"Not the way you could be," he grumbles and walks away.

I know he means well, but shit, he doesn't know how it is. At this point, all I need is my family.

Aside from Embry, my closest friend is my cousin Alec. He's the only one who can truly understand all I've gone through in the last nine years because he's dealt with alopecia since he was four. I know he had a hard time with it as a kid, but his school mates were used to him looking different from the get-go.

However, a decent-looking, twenty-year-old soccer star on campus, who wakes up half-bald and turns completely neurotic almost overnight is a different story. Party invitations dwindled, female attention became non-existent; I even lost my fucking physics lab partner because she thought I might've been contagious.

I was done with college. Turned out coming home and trying to find a sympathetic ear among the old high school crowd had been just as futile. People I'd once considered great friends treated me like a fucking social disease when I told them about the alopecia and having to drop out of WVU. I couldn't pay someone to call me back. Their reactions were like a damn two-by-four in my face: telling friends only leads to losing friends.

Lesson learned.

After that, I clammed up and figured if I'd see an old buddy, I'd say hello and hang out, but that would be the extent of it. Opening up to folks only led to disappointment and drama. I've had more than enough of both in my twenty-nine years.

Taking a deep breath, I attempt to shake off my current frustration. I don't want to turn this into another ordeal with Embry. He's here on a quick visit in between soccer games in D.C. and New York. With his schedule, I only get to see him every couple of months. "It's not worth it," I whisper to myself.

I turn to head into the kitchen but find my brother standing less than two feet behind me.

Embry's eyes are glassy, and it causes my throat to instantly jam up. "It _is_ worth it; _you_ are worth it."

"I'm so fucking tired of feeling sorry for myself," I say with a sigh. "That's why I've been okay with keeping this shit to myself and not letting anybody else in, Em." I shake my head. "The _disappointment's_ not worth it."

He leans against the door jamb. "So, Bella wouldn't have been worth it, either?"

"What's the difference?" I shrug and head past him toward the kitchen. "She's married and dancing the night away across town by now. Plus I have Tiffany. I should just get the hell outta Dodge and move to Vegas."

He follows me into the next room, and I can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn't. I don't even want to explore why I got so rip-roaring drunk over Bella. Epiphanies will only bring me down more, and I don't want to have to go back to the doctor to up my Zoloft dosage. I feel like a fucking drug store as it is.

Any chances for Bella and me, even if they were an _approximation_ of a chance, slipped away when I said goodnight to her a few weeks ago. She's better off without me anyway.

Always was.

"This sucks," I say, staring at the wrinkled and worn baked potatoes. The filets I sprung for are beyond overdone at this point. No amount of steak sauce will revive them. "This would've been a kickass meal, too."

Embry comes up next to me to peruse the damage. "I say we hit Riviera for pizza and cheesesteaks."

"All right." I nod. "Sorry about this." I wave my hands over the stove and counter.

He shakes his head. "No worries. I can't find decent pizza until I'm home in the northeast, anyway." He grins, and I know we've moved past the tension. "It's all good, big brother."

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

 _June 2011_

"Happy Birthday, sweetie." Mom greets me at the front door. "Glad you're here."

"Thanks, Mom." I kiss her cheek as Dad comes up and pats my back, pulling me in for a hug. "Hey, Pop."

"Happy Birthday, kiddo. How was class?"

I drop my keys on the end table and fall into the sofa with a loud yawn. "Typical jam-packed summer final courses. Three hours of non-stop information for four days and a test on Friday. Paper due next week."

Dad makes a face. "Sorry I asked," he chuckles. "Is the material holding your attention, at least?"

"Oh, yeah. Muscles and the nerves that innervate them. I haven't done this much memorizing since learning my times tables in the third grade." I smile obnoxiously and steal a butterscotch from the candy dish. Apparently retirement comes with the required, decorative bowls of jellied spearmint leaves and hard candy.

"Well, Miss Bellforth would be proud," my Dad adds and grabs a candy, too.

I chuckle, hearing him pull my third-grade teacher's name from the recesses of his mind.

"You want a drink, honey?" Mom questions from the kitchen.

"Just a beer. Whatever you have is fine."

"You bet. Embry should be here any minute. Liz was able to fly with him, too."

I smile at that news. "Oh, good. He said he wasn't sure if she could make her schedule work."

Dad pipes up, handing me the beer Mom just passed him. "She finagled something and got a seat on standby."

"Cool." I stand, clink bottles with him, and wander into the dining room so I can see Mom while she's still zipping around the kitchen. "Have they set a date yet?"

Mom holds her hand up. "Please, we're lucky he finally put the ring on her finger. We were waiting for that for over a year!"

My Dad closes his eyes, shaking his head in a "here it comes" way.

"She's perfect for him; easygoing, but tough when she needs to be." Dad and I know all this, but Mom's on a roll, so we don't interrupt. "She's really down to earth and it helps keep _him_ grounded. Embry needs that." She waves her index finger back and forth. "Those other girls he used to date all ate up his notoriety and puffed him up. They just _loved_ tossing his name around and being seen on Rodeo Drive by the paparazzi. One of them even treated my son like her damn bag-handler!" Mom clicks her tongue, still disgusted with the string of shady characters Embry kept company with for the years before he met Liz. "Sneaky little witches probably called those cockroach paps to give them their location."

Mom keeps muttering to herself and Dad and I just exchange raised eyebrows, allowing her tirade masked as a soliloquy to continue.

"Ugh, anyhow," she sighs, "now he's retired from the majors and they're settling in Atlanta, we'll probably see the ball rolling on wedding plans."

An uncomfortable silence descends, and I know in an instant I'm about to be questioned.

"How about you?" Mom asks hesitantly. "Did you call the girl I told you about?"

Dad gives me a look that says, "Busted."

I laugh through a huff, enjoying my father's reaction to his wife's snooping techniques. "Mom, I'm really not interested in calling the niece of your mahjong friend."

She pouts, tossing her green salad with Italian dressing. "I just figured she sounded like a sweet girl."

I pull my glasses off and brush my hands over my face to stop myself from making a nasty comment. "Girl" is right. Mom tried slipping me the number of some little thing who just graduated college. Twenty-two, bright eyed, and drenched behind the ears.

No, thanks.

At thirty-seven, I'd like to have a woman with a little more life experience, not to mention the fact that I want to do this on my own. I don't need my mother setting me up with the random table scraps of ladies who're related to her game-club partners.

Mom looks like she's about to say something else, but Dad intervenes.

"Leave it alone, Esme," he groans, and I mouth a thank you to him in return.

.

.

.

"Awesome dinner, Ma," Embry calls out, belching to drive the point home.

Liz makes a disgusted face while Dad and I shake our heads. "Embry Joseph Cullen, have you no manners?" Mom scolds, putting the apple crisp in the center of the table. "Honestly! You're a nationally-recognized athlete; please don't tell me you act like that in public."

Snickering, Embry takes the candles from her hand. "Sorry, it snuck up on me. I promise I don't do it when we're out on the town." He turns to Liz. "Right, baby?"

"You know better," Liz adds with a laugh. "I'd pop you right on the nose."

"Thank you, Liz. I feel a bit better knowing you're there to keep him in line." Mom passes the matches to Embry as she sits.

I look at the children's birthday number candles pressed into the turtle brownies Mom made for today. I've never been a cake guy, so I always grew up with birthday brownies and my mother's homemade apple crisp. Couple both of those with a scoop or two of butter pecan ice cream, and I'm in birthday à la mode heaven. Ever since I moved to Arizona, I've been spoiled by having a home-cooked birthday dinner and dessert. Having my brother and future sister-in-law here today to celebrate with me is just an added bonus.

Embry lights the three and the seven while Dad lowers the dimmer switch and sings the opening notes of "Happy Birthday." After the final "you," I stare at the flickering blaze on top of the numbers, making a wish that this is the year everything comes together for me.

I've made pretty decent strides in the last three years. Going back to college, finishing my degree, and now on the verge of completing the physical therapy master's program. I've gone on a few dates but haven't clicked with anyone yet.

I know I want more. I know I can live a fuller life than I do right now, but it takes an immense amount of confidence, which I'm still lacking.

It's been four years since I lost all the hair on my scalp. Every so often, it regrows in thin patches around my head, but I don't bother holding my breath and hoping for full regrowth; so I just shave it bald.

I don't hate the way I look, and it's taken me years of therapy to be able to come to that conclusion. I just like it better when I have a golf cap or baseball hat on. I'm thankful I've still kept the hair on my body; my eyebrows and eyelashes were my biggest concern. I didn't want to have to deal with allergies and fear getting sick all the time from the debris and dust that can slip into your ears, nose or eyes without the fine hairs and lashes to protect them.

When I went completely bald, Embry shaved his head in solidarity. He proceeded to shave his legs, too, claiming the other guys on the soccer team did it. But I know my brother was doing it just in case I started to lose my body hair. Thankfully, that hasn't happened yet. I'm hoping I've seen the worst of what this disease will do to me, but the concern about further loss is always in the back of my mind.

So, tonight, I'm wishing for a lack of fear. For even more emotional strength tomorrow than I woke up with today, and for a girl to walk into my life and never walk back out. The one who was always meant to be there. I may not know who she is, but I already know she's strong and brave; a fighter. Someone who will stand by me, regardless of how I look . . . and be my best friend and partner for life.

I've waited a long time. I've trusted the wrong people and learned my lessons the hard way. I have to believe she's out there and ready to find me, too.

.

.

.

Forks and spoons clank against dessert plates as we finish up our meal.

"So, Tammy said they're definitely looking at Disney for Theresa's wedding next year," Mom announces. "I told her I'd go with her to check out the facilities when we head down there in November."

"Disney World in November, Es? Every teacher in New Jersey is there during convention week."

"Well, we'll be there for Thanksgiving," she replies. "I just told her I'd drive up to Orlando with her for the day."

Dad sighs and continues to dig into his apple crisp. "Whatever you say. As long as we have leftovers, John and I can fend for ourselves if our women leave us." He looks between my brother and me. "How about you guys? Anybody able to come to Aunt Tammy and Uncle John's for Thanksgiving this year?"

"It'll probably work for me. Classes would be canceled for the holiday weekend," I say. "I'll just make sure to put in for the time off with Harry."

"Are your parents expecting us in Encino this year, babe?" Embry asks Liz. "Last year they had a big crowd for turkey day."

"My parents are spending Thanksgiving on a cruise in the Mediterranean this year," she answers wistfully.

My mom can't contain an envious gasp.

"Right?" Liz says, leaning toward my mother. "Anyway, yeah, Florida works for me. It'll even be a nice short flight for us from Atlanta." She curls her arm around Embry's shoulder with a smile.

"Hey, speaking of Atlanta," Mom pipes up again. "I had a lengthy chat on Facebook with Renee Swan."

Immediately my eyes dart to my brother, who holds my gaze while his beer bottle and a faint smile are poised at his lips.

Frozen like deer in headlights, the both of us.

"What's she been up to?" Dad responds.

"Charlie wants to make Ocala their permanent home, but she's attached to the Lakes and needs more convincing. Jasper's still living in Florida running his boating tour business."

"No shit!" Embry blurts. "I've gotta reach out to him. Haven't seen him in years."

My mom smiles before continuing. "Oh yeah, he's been doing really well. Renee and I catch up a few times a year online. Anyway, they're all good. But the Atlanta thing, well . . ." she trails off, wincing a bit. "Bella's had it rough."

Embry raises his eyebrows while I lean forward, waiting for my mother to finish her thought. If I know this lady, she has more of a story to dish, here. She elevated gossip to state of the art years ago, but I've never cared to hear about the minutiae of other people's lives until this very second.

"Poor thing is divorcing after all these years." She shakes her head, whispering, "Apparently her husband strayed."

"WHAT?" I shout, dropping my fork while trying not to choke on the oatmeal crumbs from my apple crisp.

My parents look at me like I just dragged a needle across their favorite record.

"Huh!" Embry adds, acting like this is the most fascinating piece of news he's ever heard in his thirty-four years.

Fucker.

My mother nods. "Renee said Bella's just devastated. I didn't get all the details, just that Bella's still living and working in Atlanta. Renee and Charlie want her to move home or even to Florida with Jasper."

There are multiple emotions thrumming through my body right now, but I can't put a finger on which is the most prevalent.

I'm sad for Bella that her heart's been broken, nobody deserves it . . . least of all the best girl I've ever known.

I'm fucking pissed as hell at that asshole, who proved himself to be the piece of shit I figured he was all those years ago. I hope Jasper and Charlie kicked his ass.

I'm curious to know if Bella is living or working anywhere near where Embry and Liz are settling. It would be a monumental coincidence—

I stop myself mid-thought, reeling in the scattered ideas that just flew through my brain. What's the use?

I said goodbye to Bella all those years ago right before she got married. Granted, she's single again, but it's not the point. On a larger scale, after moving out here, I decided to cut ties with everything that ever held me to New Jersey. The memories are too painful to recount, especially after getting sick and losing friends left and right.

No, I didn't reach out to everyone and tell them my personal business. But the few I told taught me immediately it wasn't worth it. Eventually, everyone loses touch with people from their distant past. Besides, I have a few friends here in Arizona now, and that's all I need. They've only ever known me to have alopecia, so I've never had to explain myself.

Things are better this way without reopening old wounds that didn't heal properly anyway. I moved on, and I'm sure as shit anyone who might've cared about me all those years ago has written me off, too.

"Maybe you could look her up once you're there, Em," Mom suggests, scooping some more ice cream into her dish while Dad and Liz clear the rest of the plates. "She's been there for almost ten years, I think. She could definitely give you and Liz the lay of the land when you get settled."

My brother finishes chugging his beer, eyeing me the entire time. After he puts his bottle back down, his Grinchy-grin has me cocking my head with a pointed eyebrow.

"I think I might do that, Ma. Awesome idea." He directs his words toward me, though, and then turns to Mom. "Do me a favor and pass my number to Mrs. Swan, okay?"

My brother finds my stare again and we have an argument with our eyes.

"Great!" she says, grabbing her bowl and the remainder of the half-gallon of Breyers from the table.

I lean forward, elbows on the table and hands clasped after she walks out. Embry mirrors me. I lower my voice to DEFCON: menacing. "Do not start something I can't finish, hear me?"

My warning only eggs him on. "Can't or won't?"

"I'm serious, Embry."

He shakes his head, pulling his hands back in surrender. "I'm just looking to reconnect and get a personally-guided tour of Atlanta once I get out there next month, E. Bella used to be my friend too, you know."

I study my brother for a few more moments in silence. He raises his eyebrows to see if I'll challenge his last comment, but I concede . . . for now.

"Fair enough. I suppose you contacting Bella isn't out of the realm of possibility." I take a deep breath. "I'm just asking you to respect my wishes and not introduce me into the conversation."

He smiles and sits back. "I'll respect your wishes and not bring you up in conversation if and when I see her."

"Thank you," I say with a curt nod and shift gears to a lighter topic. "Now, what did you get me for my birthday?"

Embry doesn't miss a beat. "A box of tampons, you pussy."

"Funny guy." I roll my eyes, but I don't give a fuck. I'm just not in a place where I can let myself believe I'd ever have a chance to reconnect with Bella.

I stopped torturing myself with that dream a long time ago.

 **(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)(-)**

 _August 2011 . . . present day_

I release the latch and step back as the hood of my pickup slams shut. These summer dust storms have me running through windshield wiper fluid like it's going out of style.

Satisfied with my quick fluid check, I wipe my hands on the back of my jeans and head into the garage, closing the door behind me. I drop the jug on the bottom shelf in the workshop area and go back inside. Lucy and Linus are sliding around my feet, still unable to gain decent traction ever since I replaced the old carpeting with wood floors last week and confused the hell out of their world.

"C'mere you two. Who's hungry?"

In unison, the brother and sister beagles howl excitedly, watching me fill their bowls with dry food. I place their dishes down and grab the water bowls, turning to fill them just as I hear the doorbell ring. Trying not to spill, I put them on the mat at my feet and wipe my hands on a dish towel before flinging it over my shoulder.

I stride toward the door, hoping it's not Sydney asking for another cup of sugar. It's recently been my flirtatious neighbor's code for "let me rub my tits on you in thanks for allowing me to borrow random baking ingredients." She's not bad-looking, but she just doesn't do it for me.

Pulling the door open, I step forward, my gaze finding a girl retreating down the stone path. When she turns and I see her face, I'm certain my eyes are playing tricks on me.

It's the most beautiful but terrifying illusion, and if it's not real, it'll break me.

"Bella?" I slide my shades up onto my bandana, in total disbelief. "Wha?"

She responds with a quiet hello and offers a bumbling explanation as to why she's on my doorstep. My first thought is about killing Embry. He has to be the mastermind here. But then I wonder if this is a result of my mother's intervening, too.

 _Bella was down the road in Florida?_ I do my best not to burst into laughter, but that's got be the most adorable lie I've ever been told. And I've been told many . . . most of which ended up shredding my already-battered heart.

 _She swung by on her way home_?

I stuff my hands into my pockets and step down onto the front porch, hoping that she's not an apparition about to evaporate.

Please be real.

"Home to where?" I ask, tempting fate that this is all an unbelievably cruel joke.

She trips over her thoughts and words before answering again. "A different city . . . in Florida."

Bella left Florida, to go _home_ to Florida . . . by way of my house in Arizona. I chuckle, shaking my head. God, I've missed this woman.

I swallow the boulder that's suddenly built up in my throat, remembering I haven't taken off my bandana yet. She has no clue I've lost all my hair. She could turn right around and leave just like all the others. My heart starts racing, but I take a few calming breaths, talking myself out of a possible panic attack.

Maybe this doesn't have to end badly. I got wrecked all those years ago because I knew Bella was the kindest girl I'd ever known, her whole heart behind her every word and action. I hated I had to walk away that night without trusting her with my scary reality. Without trusting my own instincts, she might've been the one supportive friend from my past who never would've turned her back on me.

But she's here now.

Is this the proof I've been waiting for? Does this mean she thinks I'm worth it?

I downshift my thoughts from overdrive. I can't get ahead of myself. I need to fucking relax, so I take another deep breath.

"Okay, wanna come in for a glass of water or something?" I hedge, figuring I'll play along, unable to contain my smile at my unfathomable luck that Bella Swan is standing in front of me after all these years. "I mean before you head home . . . to Florida?"

When she agrees to come inside for a while, I exhale what I hope is the first sigh of relief in a long line of many to come.

So maybe Embry was right all along. Maybe trusting one more person, _the right person_ , will be worth it.

* * *

 **A/N: At least we know he's pretty happy with his unexpected guest. ;) The next chapter will pick up right here and in BPoV, but we'll be hearing again from Edward soon.**

 **So much love to my team and to all my lovely readers and reviewers; I'm thrilled to hear how much you're enjoying the story**. **Can't wait to hear your thoughts now that we've gotten into Edward's noggin a bit. :D See you in two Fridays.**

 **xo, Jen**


	16. Chapter 16

**(+)(-)(+) Far Away Flame (-)(+)(-)**

 _BPOV . . ._

I follow Edward into his house, my stomach in my throat and my body overcome with heat. Granted, the ninety-nine-degree temperature my rental car displayed on the dash isn't helping at all. It seems there was a cold spell here in Scottsdale, though, because the pilot announced it was one hundred four when we landed in Phoenix an hour ago. This heat wave under my clothes, however, is most assuredly due to nerves.

And what the hell is with the grit that's covering my body? Did Mother Nature spray a dirt air freshener over this area of the country? She couldn't go with clean linen or pure vanilla? I can't deal with how scuzzy I feel right now, but I'm trying to put that out of my head for the moment.

As for Edward's reaction to my presence, I'm going with a firm: so far, so good.

He didn't come out with a shotgun propped up on his shoulder, screaming at me to get off his property, so I'll count it as a win. I blame the nightmare I had on the plane for that one. I guess falling asleep last night watching a History Channel special on the Hatfields and the McCoys planted a seed.

Anyway, no visible holes in my chest cavity with the exception of the one Tyler left in my heart, but I try to put him out of my mind a little bit more each day. It's clear he doesn't love that girl, and he's sick with the knowledge that he's lost me forever. I hope those babies become the new love of his life, for his sake and theirs.

For now, I'm shaking all thoughts of my past heartaches aside and focusing on what's right in front of me.

I'm standing in Edward Cullen's living room.

Holy shit.

What a difference a day makes.

These two adorable doggies sniffing me and attempting conversation through their howls, though, have my full attention for the moment.

"Lucy, Linus, stop, you're fine." Edward puts a finger through each of their collars and drags them back a bit. "Sorry about that," he adds, taking a knee.

"They're so sweet," I say, joining him on the floor to greet the puppies with back rubs and scratches behind their ears. "I love their names."

"I figured it fit because Linus here has red and black splattered around his coat, and Lucy is technically a blue beagle even if her coat looks grayish."

Linus gets up and scampers over to a rubber toy monkey while Lucy is poised in a most unladylike manner, enjoying my attention.

"Lucy," Edward scolds with a chuckle, shaking his head. "She's shameless. They love friends, but we don't have too many visitors come through with the exception of their brother."

"Aww, and what's his name?"

Edward smiles that same crooked grin that always made my belly flutter. "Snoopy."

I drop my hand and stare at him, unable to take the cuteness. "Snoopy the beagle. Stop it."

"Yeah, my parents found a rescue farm for beagles near Tucson. The three of us took a ride down there last month, and I came home with these two rascals."

"How old are they?"

"A little over three months. It was hard to walk away with just two of them. They came from a litter of nine, and they were all available for adoption."

"I never took the plunge to getting anything bigger than fish or hamsters." I massage Lucy under her jaw, and she stretches her mouth for a big yawn.

"Well, these two are a riot. I'm glad they have each other. They do really well with companions." Edward grabs the monkey Linus just brought over and starts nudging the puppy on his belly and back while Linus snaps playfully at the toy. "In our weaker moments, my parents and I have talked about driving back to pick up the rest of the litter."

Gasping, I add, "A true Peanuts reunion. All you'd need is a bird named Woodstock."

"See, you get it." Edward grins.

Silence descends for several seconds, and I'm instantly on edge. I so don't want this to turn awkward, but Edward saves the day, scooting back to stand. "Uhh, let me get you that bottle of water."

"Thanks." I smile while Lucy tickles my fingers with playful nips and kisses. My mind continues to swirl, wondering what I should say next to Edward. Where do we even begin?

I decide to be bold enough to walk back toward where I saw him disappear into his kitchen. I hope it's not too forward of me. However, when you travel sixteen hundred miles to say hello, all façades of being demure and passive have flown out the window.

My gaze finds him tucked at the corner of his counter; he's furiously typing on his phone.

"Hey."

"Oh! Sorry, just . . ."—he holds up his cell—"answering a text from Embry." He steps forward, handing me the water. "I missed a call from him late last night, and when I tried to return it this morning, it just went to his voicemail."

I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering if Embry had been attempting to give Edward a heads up that I might be coming his way. Procrastination has always been my strong suit, but after hearing Embry's abridged version of Edward's tale, I knew waiting around would only lead to eventual excuses as to why I shouldn't bother reaching out. I never told Embry I'd be on a plane within twenty-four hours, though.

Looks like I turned the term impulsive into an Olympic sport.

The jury's still out on whether or not I made the right decision. Maybe I should just confess and get it out of the way. Honesty is the only way Edward and I are going to make any progress here.

"I saw Embry over the weekend."

He slips his phone onto the island and leans against it, drinking from his water bottle. Watching his Adam's apple slide up and down under his tan skin is a little too much to take, so I unscrew the cap on my bottle and chug away, too.

Again wishing it were Zima. I may have a problem.

"Yeah, my brother just mentioned that in the text." He puffs his cheeks, casting his gaze down to his hands tapping on the counter and quietly adds, "I figured he was the reason you were standing here. Embry told me he wasn't going to mention me."

I put my bottle down and clear my throat, my spine stiffening because I can't tell if he's ticked, curious, or maybe both. I don't want to get Embry into trouble, so I scramble to set things right.

"Well, he didn't bring you up, if it makes you feel any better. I—I was the one who asked about you first."

He raises his eyebrows.

 _Fix it, Bella. Fix it._

"Seriously, it was kinda crazy the way it all happened." My nervous habit takes over, and I start gesturing along with every third word. "I'm staying at Jazz's house because—well—I got divorced back in April, but I was still in Atlanta up until a few weeks ago." I wave my hand, trying to clear my brain of tangents into my sob story and move onto the reasoning Edward is looking for regarding Embry. "Anyway, apparently Embry ran into his old knee surgeon, Alice, who turned out to be Jasper's girlfriend."

Edward nods and I continue.

"I think I told you a while ago that Jazz owns a cruise tour company, right?"

"Yeah, I remember you said it was a party boat for spring breakers."

"That's how it started, but he and James turned it into a fleet of five vessels. Three catamarans, a dive boat and a yacht. Two of them still operate as party boats, but the others are usually luxury cruises for snorkeling, sightseeing, wedding parties . . . wealthy people who just want a weekend on the water."

"That's pretty amazing. Good for Jazz and James." He jerks his chin upward. "How's Hunter doing anyway?"

I smile, thinking about how awesome James has been to me over the last several months. "He's fantastic. Has a sweet wife and an adorable little four-year-old boy who looks just like him."

"Cool."

Edward's thoughtful smile relaxes me enough to continue. "Well, anyway . . . when Alice and Embry made the connection, Jasper invited him and his fiancée down for a weekend cruise." I shrug, coming to the end of my explanation and confession. "So, yeah . . . I couldn't be in the same vicinity as Embry all day and not ask about you."

He nods, looking down again. Why is he looking down? Is it because his confidence is shattered?

I hate that. Fuck all those people who did that to him.

When he doesn't respond after a few more seconds, the silence engages my panic button.

"Edward—"

"Bella, I don't know where to begin." We speak on top of each other, his words stopping me in my tracks. He rubs his hands over his eyes and across his temples, and I take a slight step back. This is too much for him.

My anxiety flares in an instant. "Look, I'm sorry for showing up like this. I just didn't know how else to approach you."

"So much has happened," he replies.

I pause, trying to find the words. "I know. But I just wanted you to know I cared. I'm here, and I can be here. If you need me . . . if—if you want me." My sentiments end in barely a whisper. I'm embarrassed and look off to the side as my vision blurs. I didn't expect to cry so easily, but how could I not?

I'm really here in front of him . . . after all this time. After we've both suffered tremendous losses in different ways . . . tears were inevitable.

"You don't even know me." His gravelly voice is so quiet. The words he speaks shred me, his tone so forlorn.

"You're right, I don't." I swipe a tear off my cheek. "But I did. A long time ago, I did." We're both silent for a few seconds before I continue. "There's always going to be a valley between two mountains. It's just that some valleys are a lot wider than others before you get to the other mountain." I exhale deeply, ready to walk out again if he needs me to leave. I don't want to, but I will. "I guess I just wanted you to know you were worth the trek and the climb. To me, you always were."

He clears his throat, looking unnerved. "You sound like you're getting ready to go."

"If that's what you want."

Shaking his head, he sputters, "No, no, I don't want that . . . I'm just trying to muster up the courage to give you what you deserve."

My smile is pensive, a little bit thankful that he's not ready to kick me out, but my heart still hurts for him . . . hurts for both of us. Having to start over again with each other seems monumentally unfair. I wring my hands, wishing there'd been a way to do this without putting him on the spot.

"Plus, I mean, you came all this way for the water," he says, chuckling, pointing to the empty bottle. "It's only fair of me to give you some answers."

I click my tongue and huff. "You don't owe me anything, Edward. I'm here because I want to be. I'm here because your brother said you probably wouldn't slam the door in my face, and thank you for that, by the way."

He scoffs. "I never would've done that."

"And I never would've turned away from you . . . not ever. No matter what you told me." Our stare locks before I follow up my pointed statement with a firm single nod.

"I think I realized that the night you and I spent driving around Medford Lakes," he confesses quietly.

I brush my fingers under both eyes, my tearful moment having passed, thank God. "You could've said something."

"What would I have said? 'Bella, I'm dealing with a disease, and I keep losing my hair, and I can't find anyone who wants to be understanding aside from my family. Will you please be my friend?'"

He chuckles a little and I join him, thankful for the levity.

"Something along those lines would've gotten my attention, yes."

He shakes his head, his smile turning sad. "I wasn't going to do that to you. Not a few weeks before you were getting married. We hadn't been in touch in years, which was my fault for playing turtle when things got really bad." He shrugs. "Your priorities were elsewhere at that point, as they should've been."

I close my eyes, unable to forget the bittersweet moments we shared. "You do realize my priorities were with a man who left Rosalie and Emmett's wedding with your date. The same guy who eventually cheated on me." I snort. "Maybe you should've intervened and saved us both a lot of anguish."

"It wasn't my place." He stares deeply into my eyes, feels like it's going straight to my soul, and he shakes his head again. "Even though saying goodbye and driving away from you that night was a total gut-punch, I knew you were happy, and you deserved to be happy." His voice lowers to a whisper. "I'm sorry it ended up breaking your heart."

"I'm sorry it broke yours, too."

We both sigh, not knowing what to add but then he speaks over the silence. "You want a real drink?"

"Hell, yes," I answer a little too quickly, and he busts out laughing.

"I should've offered that first." He walks toward the bar along the back wall of his kitchen. "Might've made the last fifteen minutes a little easier." He crouches down to open the liquor cabinet. "What's your poison?"

"Uhhhh," I tick-tock my head while mulling over my choices. "Got any lemons and sugar?"

"'Atta girl. Lemon drop shots, it is. I even have Absolut already chilled in the freezer." He turns to walk toward me, but then a huge grin graces his face and he reopens the cabinet. "I just had a brilliant idea."

.

.

.

"I feel like we're twelve years old and sneaking drinks from your parents' liquor stash," I say with a giggle. "Is it sacrilegious that we've turned our childhood treat into something alcoholic?"

He winks, adding the Crème de Menthe to the blender. "No at all. After dozens and dozens of Shamrock Shakes you and I have consumed over the years, I can't believe we never even considered making our own at home with the adult twist. It's way past time."

"Why didn't we ever think of this before," I shout over the grinding of the blender and lean forward, resting my chin on my wrist. We're each three lemon drop shots in, and I find my gaze lingers a bit longer when Edward says something to me. I'm studying the way his jaw tenses and relaxes while he concentrates on making our drinks, the way his forearm muscles flex under his skin like they're winking at me. It's all combining together to make me feel a little hot under the collar.

He shuts off the blender. "Well, you turned twenty-one away at college, and when I turned twenty-one, I was already a college drop-out and living with my cousin out in Pittsburgh."

My brows furrow, my inner counselor with the "S" across her chest ready to sprint onto the scene armed with a pen, notebook, and a box of tissues. "I don't suppose there's any chance you want to talk about it?"

"About what, dropping out of college?" he asks and grabs our two drinks. "C'mon,"—he jerks his head to the left—"let's hang out over here . . . it's a better view."

I follow behind him like a happy, tipsy puppy. Just off his kitchen, we enter a cozy room encased in floor to ceiling windows. The overstuffed furniture looks inviting to my travel-weary body. There's a big screen T.V. mounted on the wall and sliding glass doors leading out to a fenced-in backyard.

His property is complete with an in-ground pool; there's a rock waterfall in the far corner, and off to the side is a grill with a patio table and four chairs. I marvel at the western landscape; not a blade of grass to be seen, just cacti and other desert brush with stone surrounding the pool and patio. "Do you swim much?"

"I do," he answers, putting our drinks on the extra-wide ottoman. "Granted, when it's one hundred and fourteen degrees, the pool feels more like a bath, so it's nowhere near refreshing," he chuckles.

"Where're you going?" I call out when he heads back toward the kitchen.

"Grabbing some chips . . . we're missing our piping hot fries, and neither of us is in any condition to drive, so this'll have to be the next best thing." He opens the bag and offers it to me.

After dipping it in my frosty beverage, I pop it in my mouth and make a face once it becomes cold mush.

"No good?"

I giggle. "The flavor is there . . . but it's not the same."

He cringes a bit after tasting the bizarre combination. "Okay, so we know for next time." He sits back on the couch and turns his body to face me.

My gaze locks with his. "Next time." I pull my lower lip between my teeth, trying not to grin like a loon.

"Mhmmm," he answers, sipping from his glass, "and I don't mean five years from now when we see each other again. I'm done with extended absences from you."

This time I can't hide my smile or the blush that it now accompanies. "Not a fan of the lengthy lag time between visits?"

He shakes his head. "Never was," he murmurs but I catch it and try to quell the leap of my heart. Clearing his throat, this time he speaks up, "Not with you, no. Unless you have a different thought?" he questions with apprehension, his head dipped forward.

"Are you saying you're pleased with me showing up on your doorstep, unannounced?"

His eyes crinkle as he downs another gulp of his shake. "I'm saying I'm glad you had the nerve to reach out." He looks away from me before meeting my stare again. "My ego has taken more than its fair share of hits. And with someone I've always regarded as pretty much the best girl—well, woman—I've ever known, I'm ashamed to admit I don't know if I could've done the same. I never dared to risk that same loss with you. I don't know if I could've bounced back from that."

"I'm not looking to win any awards, here." I shrug and grab another chip. "I just knew I needed to see you. Tell you I've always wanted to stay in touch with you, be your friend. Growing up sucked at times because I didn't have you next to me when I could've used a friend."

"I was there for a while . . . you just put me off to the side." He snickers, I assume because he's waiting for my retort.

My eyes almost bug out of my face. "I think you and I have a different version of history, buddy."

"I agree," he says, matter-of-factly and pulls a handful of chips from the bag between us. "I think you and I have a different version of how I saw you—of how we saw each other growing up."

"Okay, so let's clear the air on that one." I wave my hand above my head while giggling. "I was the girl next door."

"You were my best friend, Bella." He finishes crunching on his mouthful and chases it with a gulp of minty goodness. "Literally, yeah, you were the girl around the corner, but you were also the one I wanted to hang out with. You were the one I wanted to ride home from school with. I remember referring to you as my girlfriend when we were younger, but I stopped that—"

"Because then you liked Heather," I interrupt.

"What?" he blurts. "No . . . because you always got shy whenever I called you my girlfriend. I figured it made you uncomfortable and then you'd get all weird, so I just stopped."

"So, why did you become an item with Heather?"

"An item, Bella?" He can't hold back his laughter. "Really? I was playing truth or dare with some of the guys at Boy Scouts, and they dared me to ask out Heather because they knew I was shy around all the other girls except for you. I wanted to prove them wrong, so I asked her." He lifts his shoulder in partial defeat. "Heather and I never spent any time together . . . ever. And certainly no more than when you and I found time to hang out. But that was also when you started to really get into hockey and dance, plus you kept up with piano and voice lessons . . . you were never around anymore."

I jut out my chin, contorting my face. "What? I was still in school with you. You started hanging out with some of the other kids like Jake, Paul, Emily Bradford, and their whole crowd."

"Yeah, because you were busy _constantly_." He tips his head back, emphasizing his words. "There were days we couldn't even ride to or from school together. Don't you remember all the times I called or came by asking if you wanted to come out and play, or ride bikes down to the lake, or fish off my dock? You stopped having time for me." The hurt in his voice reveals his unwavering sincerity. "So when I wasn't with Embry, I would pal around with Greg Jeffries, who hung out with all those other guys."

I shake my head, bothered that we could've misread each other so terribly. "You acted so sad, worrying about Heather getting hurt if she went to Space Camp after we'd just learned about the shuttle explosion."

He nods, taking another swig of his drink. "That worrying feeling was just there because it reminded me of when you had your emergency surgery to remove your appendix the summer before. You got so sick so quickly." He pauses to clear his throat. "I thought you were gonna die."

"What?" My head tilts to the side, overwhelmed by his latest revelation.

Toying with his watch, he exhales, ready to peel away another layer of this monumental onion we've stumbled upon. "I have vivid memories of my mom coming into my bedroom the night you got sick and had to go to the hospital. I was convinced you were gonna die because it happened like that with my grandpa."

"Didn't he die of a heart attack?"

He widens his arms. "I was ten years old. When one of the people you care most about gets crazy sick out of the blue, you panic and associate every bad thing with the knowledge you already have." He shrugs again. "You got sick, I assumed it meant I would lose you for good. Cried myself to sleep that night."

My stomach is in knots, but his confession warms me like a blanket I've been desperate for. "Why didn't you ever tell me this?"

"I was embarrassed!" he shouts through a chortle. "Don't you know how shy I was around girls?"

I put my hand on my chest. My heart aches knowing how devastated he'd been when I had appendicitis. "But it was just me. You could've said it to me."

He cocks his head, his eyebrow rising to a point. "I seem to remember you having a similar reaction to me showing up at your door when your face was covered in chicken pox." He wiggles his finger in my direction. "I only ever wanted you to see us as Edward and Bella. You were the one who started putting me on some kind of untouchable shelf."

"You got enveloped by the kids who, by most accounts, were considered the popular crowd. You were popular, Edward."

He shrugs, shaking his head. "Like I said. I started spending time with them when you became unavailable. After a while, getting a 'no' from you made me assume that you'd rather I stopped asking . . . so eventually I did."

My confession falls from my lips. "I walked around with a puppy love crush on you for years and just figured you thought of me as a friend rather than wanting me as a girlfriend." I grab a chip and break it in half for no reason at all, no longer hungry for the snack. "A lot of girls were so ga-ga about you. We all hit puberty, and you became the talk of the town. Some of them even claimed to be your girlfriend."

He groans before responding. "It mortified me. Yes, lots of them would say they wanted to be my girlfriend, but I never asked anybody out. Not one girl. After those few months of,"—he waves his arm—"whatever that was with Heather, I didn't bother. We were all kids; it's not like anybody ever physically hooked up. It was dumb. Anyway, I figured if I couldn't call you my girlfriend, why would I use that word for anybody else?" He shakes his head again, looking toward the puppies who've started yelping near the door. "I didn't have any kind of backbone around girls until halfway through freshman year of high school."

"Ahhh, yes." I snort. "Dorie Chester."

He laughs. "Here we go."

"You promise you didn't sleep with her at the end of freshman year?" My tipsy self needs reassurance, for what reason, I don't know.

Looking down, he blows out a loud breath, that half smile emerging again. "I promise. Even though I came to accept that you didn't want to spend time with me anymore, I couldn't bring myself to truly fall for any other girls."

"You . . .you'd fallen for me?" I try to keep the shock from my voice, but come on! My brain is spitting out bolts and bytes, chattering, "Does not compute."

"We were so young. I don't know if I was feeling love, Bella. But you were the only girl who gave me a sick pit in my stomach." We both laugh. "It had been there for a while, but then I just squashed it."

I swallow tightly and press on to finish off the Dorie folklore once and for all. "So the hickey?"

"Was a result of playing two minutes in the closet at Rick Angelo's party," he answers with a roll of his gorgeous eyes. "The guys' names were in a bowl, she drew mine. It was dumb, but I felt pressured, so I did it."

I shake my head. "Wow. What a little liar she was."

"Well, watching Brady parade you around for two years sucked big time. Seeing you on the sidelines at our games, knowing you were there to watch him but not me?" He grunts, shaking his head. "Then at parties after our soccer games, in the hallway before classes, both of you looking like yearbook material as varsity stars of your sports. I could only—"

The doorbell interrupts us.

"You could only what?"

He scrubs his hands over his thighs before standing. "Torture myself for so long, coming to grips with the fact I wasn't even a passing thought for you. I figured it was dumb to pine away so I distracted myself and got involved in more school stuff besides just soccer. Student council, peer mentoring, other class activities . . ." he trails off with a shrug, then peers down his front hall. "Fuck, it's my neighbor." I giggle at his candor. "She's probably here for her daily flirting session."

I quirk my brow. "Giving free lessons, are you?"

He barks out a laugh, now halfway to the door. "Hardly!" he shouts back.

My fingers rub across my forehead, trying to wrap my brain around all of this new information we've garnered. I once saw a funny pair of t-shirts advertised in one of those kitschy catalogs that sell mounted, talking bass and Santas who drop their pants when you squeeze a little hand-held pump. The t-shirts had a big red-letter M surrounded by lightning bolts and shields and underneath it said, "Miscommunication, that's our superpower."

I remember chuckling when I saw the couple wearing theirs and pointing to each other with goofy looks on their face. It might be an appropriate gift for Edward and me, given our current based-on-the-very-misinformed-past circumstances.

"Uhh, yeah, hang on a sec," Edward says to whoever is at his door and then reappears in his family room. "Bella, can I ask you to move your car?" He rolls his eyes, flashing me a fake smile. "My neighbor Sydney is having some company for dinner and needs the space across the street."

A life-size Barbie steps out from behind him, poking her boobs around his shoulder. "Thanks, I'd really appreciate it," she says in her nasal voice that shoots straight up my spine before she turns and heads for the door. "Hope you still come over, Eddie!"

I leap up from the couch, responding, "Oh, of course!" I grab my purse from the kitchen counter, rifle through it, and find the rental key. When I get close to Edward, I lower my voice. "I mean, I could get going if you have somewhere to be." I offer in all sincerity, realizing I never asked if he was free for the rest of the evening. It's almost six and I'm acting like invading his house was part of his plan all along, too.

"Shhh," he scolds with a subtle shake of his head.

We're murmuring as we walk toward his front door. Even though Nosey Nellie is in front of us, I swear she's arching her back to listen in, probably hanging onto every word we exchange.

"Seriously, I feel bad if you've already made plans," I whisper.

When I slip past him in the doorway, he reaches out, gently wrapping his warm hand around my wrist. "Just pull in next to my truck. And I do have plans . . . with you. If you'll stay." His voice is soft, sincere.

My lips pinch together to avoid grinning too hard. Sydney waves again in the driveway before clip-clopping across the street in her heels. Edward and I stall on his front path and he stops to lean against a column on his portico. He still hasn't let go of my wrist, and his thumb is dusting across the back of my hand. It's sweet, borderline sexy. My heart beats a little faster and I smile, locking our gazes. "I can stay a while. For dinner?"

Once I've stepped away, he crosses his toned arms, those forearm muscles and tendons moving lithely again under his tanned skin. "Dinner's a start," he says with a shrug and a crooked smile. "More than seven years since we've seen each other; damn near thirty-seven since we've known each other." He squints toward the sun that's setting in orange and pink streaks across the horizon before looking back to me. "I'd like to hope we have a lot more to cover before we're done here."

I chuckle and nod, whipping my key around my finger. "You're probably right. Thirty some-odd years . . . might take a while."

"I'm game if you are." He winks and tips his head to the house. "We'll figure it out."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Much love and thanks to my fantastic team, my dear readers and those of you who've taken the time to leave me your thoughts. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your words and your excitement as we continue to peel away the layers for these two characters. Someday I'll be able to get back to review replies. I hate that I can't carve out that time every week :( Please know I read and treasure them all!**

 **See you next Friday.**

 **xo, Jen**


	17. Chapter 17

**(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

EPOV

Standing in the doorway, I can't wipe the smile off my face while I wait for Bella to move her car into my driveway. It still amazes me that she's here. All the memories we've been rehashing have me bothered that she never realized how important she'd always been to me, though. I know I eventually gave up on trying to be close to her, but after being told over and over again she couldn't hang out with me because of this or that, I just figured she wanted to move on from our childhood friendship. It made me feel like a chump at the time for trying to hold onto something she'd seemingly outgrown, so I found some other friends to play with. What's an eleven-year-old kid to do?

It's a kick to the gut to hear she'd never given up on us. She just didn't want to pursue me when she thought _I'd_ branched out to find bigger and better friends.

To me, there would never be anyone better than Bella. But, after drifting apart because we never had the nerve to be honest with each other, we ended up on our own, navigating the shitty hands life dealt us.

 _Everything happens for a reason_ is such an overused cliché. I didn't deserve to be affected with alopecia, and it sucks that Bella's marriage fell apart. If we could've bypassed those major upheavals in our lives and still arrived here, neither of us would have much to complain about. I love that she found her way to me, but I wish it could've been done without us trudging through the mucked up crap that's been heaped on us over the years.

I hold the door open when she approaches, and somehow with each step that brings her closer to me, my heart picks up its pace.

"Sounds like your neighbor was hoping you'd be coming by for dinner tonight," she says with a smile, passing under my outstretched arm.

"Yeah, well . . . it's a standing invitation for me," I answer, hoping Bella doesn't think she's ruining any plans I'd made. "Sydney has dinner parties at least once a week. As long as I show my face once a month, I'm able to keep her off my back." When we return to the family room, I collapse onto the couch and gulp down the rest of my shake. I might need to make another batch of these soon; they fuckin' rocked.

"Pretty sure it's not your back she wants to be on," Bella adds, batting her eyelashes.

I bark out a laugh.

"Ooooh, sorry. That sounded really bitchy." She giggles and takes another sip of her drink. "I think my filter has officially left the building. I need to splash some water on my face. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"No, please." I stand and lead her back down the hallway to the foyer, turning on the light in the half bath. "Here you go."

She dips her head shyly. "Thanks."

After walking into the kitchen, I lean on the counter, my thoughts still reeling over what's transpired in the last couple of hours.

Bella makes me smile. I don't mind that she might be a little on the tipsy side. I haven't stopped staring at her; perhaps it's longer than what's considered appropriate, but again, I can't find it in myself to care. How is it possible that the planets aligned and we're in the same room again?

This girl, my best friend from a zillion years ago, who never backed down from a challenge to a bike race, the one always ready to get muddy in the lake when we tried to catch minnows with our nets; the one who never learned how to roller skate properly, but would still trust me enough to hold her hand on the waxed, wooden floor of the skating rink during "couples' skate" on Saturday afternoons. We shared countless memorable times as kids, little things and big things, but when I look back on them, they add up to the unwavering knowledge that she'd always been in my corner. And here she is now, reminding me of that.

I've spent years locked away from friends I considered myself close to in high school, and only recently have I let in a few new ones. My dating experiences over the last few years have never gone beyond casual evenings that sort of fizzle after a night out or two. My birthday wish this year had been to conquer the crippling fear that's held me back for so long. To trust I'll find the person who can love me, inside and out, and is capable and willing to keep my heart safe with them forever. I'm willing to try. I've been psyching myself up for a while, but is it possible that Bella was fated to be _the one_ to do it all along?

I never allowed myself to think about us . . . ever. After high school graduation, we were completely off each other's radars. As an adult, I had no idea where she was because I'd been so overloaded with my own crap that when I finally did run into her, it was at Emmett's wedding. Then more years flew by and Bella showed up engaged, again, leaving me shit out of luck even if I wanted to pursue her. So, I've seen her twice in my adult life. I mean, I've thought about her over the years since then, but I didn't let it torture me. She was married and unattainable. But now . . .

I'm getting ahead of myself. I haven't even had the guts to take off my bandana yet, and the topic of her divorce hasn't been touched either. She might not be ready for a relationship . . . maybe she'll never be ready again. And beyond that, she only came here today saying she wanted to be my friend. Unless undying pledges of love and devotion are on the horizon, it's best for me to reel in the crazy and take it one step at a time for now.

I shake off the rapid-fire thoughts. Maybe we should just tackle dinner.

"Hi," she says, reappearing in the kitchen and looking too damn cute for words.

I slap the table. "How do you feel about bacon cheeseburgers on the grill with corn on the cob to soak up some alcohol?"

.

.

.

I flip the burgers and throw a slice of cheese down on each of them, stepping back as some grease drips and causes flames to shoot up. Lucy and Linus have me chuckling while they chase a cactus bee that's zooming between several cactus flowers. "Don't get too close, you two. Nobody wants to pull prickers from your noses, trust me."

"Hey,"—Bella pops her head out the door—"I gathered everything we need on the counter. Want me to bring it out here and set this table?"

I lean to the side, glancing at the thermometer that hangs from one of the patio beams. "It's ninety-seven degrees, kid. Sure that's not going to be too stifling for you?"

Stepping down, she slides the door closed behind her and joins me in the smoky air surrounding the barbeque. "Maybe it is a _little_ stuffy," she says, scrunching up her nose and passing me the plate of bacon she brought with her. "It's almost seven o' clock. When will it start cooling down?"

"January."

She bursts out laughing and nudges me with her petite hip. "Quit teasing me."

"I'm not teasing," I chuckle, turning off the gas burners. "Who told you to come to Arizona in August?" This time we're both engulfed in laughter while I place the burgers on the toasted potato buns she laid out on the platter. "Okay, okay. Honestly, it's not going to dip much lower than the seventies, and that's in the dead of night."

We head back inside, and I crack my neck from side to side, thankful to be back in the air conditioning.

"So then, Mr. Southwest, are you one of those guys who decorates a palm tree for Christmas?"

"Like on the Corona commercial?" I ask, loving that our conversation is so easy right now. "No, I have an artificial tree that I take out some years. Although this year might be tricky with these two rascals." I nod my head toward the dogs, who're now nipping at each other's ears and rolling around on the carpet in front of the door.

"Just some years?"

I stare at her thoughtfully for a second and shrug. "Wasn't always in the celebrating mood, I guess." I can tell I've saddened her with my morose comment. It's the truth, though; can't help how I felt.

She finds a smile while tapping her chin before responding again. "Hmmm, a table top tree might be the way to go this year. You could always go for the Charlie Brown tree since you've started your collection of The Peanuts Gang."

Chuckling, I answer. "Good point, but if you're gonna do it, may as well do it right. This could be the first year ever I have two trees." I put the platter down on the table and step over to the fridge. "Maybe I'll just have to gate off the area where I put the big tree this year. Water?" I hold a bottle up and grab another for myself.

"Definitely. No more alcohol for me tonight. It would really suck having traveled all this way to see you and then wrap myself around a telephone pole driving back to the hotel tonight."

I nod, already bummed that we'll have to part ways at some point this evening. "Where are you staying?"

"Uhh, the Doubletree on North Scottsdale," she says, smoothing her dress and taking a seat.

"That's almost forty-five minutes away with traffic. I could've found you something closer."

She widens her arms before I pass her the plate of burgers. "Edward, I came out here not knowing if we'd even have a ten-minute conversation. I wasn't really concerned with where I was staying."

I stab a chunk of butter with my fork and slide it over the ear of corn. "Yeah, I get it. Did you have anything else planned while you were out here? Things to do, I mean?"

"Nope, just you." Her response comes out so quickly, her shocked look must match mine. She slaps her hand across her mouth before my head lolls back and I bust out laughing while she scrambles. "I mean—"

I collect myself before conveying my assurance. "Relax. I know what you meant." It's what I say, but let's be honest, I'm not a robot; I'd be full of shit to say the image hasn't ever crossed my mind. "So, you were saying . . ."

She shakes her head, her eyes closed while she groans. "No. I had no other plans. I've never been out here, so I wouldn't begin to know what to sight see. How far away is the Grand Canyon?"

"About three and a half hours."

"Ever been?"

I nod with a grin. "Many times."

"Ehhh." She looks down, disappointed.

"I mean, I'd go back in a heartbeat." I follow up quickly. "I'd love to show it to you. I don't go where all the tourists go, though. I've always taken the secluded route and hung out on the western rim. No guard rails, just you and one of the natural wonders of the world. It's phenomenal."

A hopeful look crosses her face.

"We could go through Sedona, too, which is also stunning. I've camped up there. It's got a great little town with shops and restaurants, plus, there's the Chapel of the Holy Cross . . ." I stop myself, squinting my eyes and shaking my head. "Enough with my word vomit," I say with a wave. "I don't even know how long you're staying. You said you're living with Jazz in Florida these days? Do you have to get back to work soon?"

She takes a sip from her water and clears her throat. "I haven't found a job yet. I put out some feelers with resumes, sent a few email inquiries, but that's about it. I only left my other job officially a couple of weeks ago." Her shoulders slump. "I loved it there."

I wipe my mouth with my napkin and finish chewing the enormous bite I shoved in to shut myself up ten seconds ago. Damn, I was hungry. "Can we talk about why you left Atlanta?"

"Are you trying to make me vomit?" she says, half-laughing with a mouthful of corn.

"No," I chuckle and wait for both of us to compose ourselves. "No, not at all. Should we save the Atlanta talk for after the food?"

She snickers. "I'm joking—well—not really, but yeah, I moved in with my brother a few weeks ago."

"My mom said she'd been chatting with your mom on Facebook, and that's when it came up that Embry should try to find you so you could give him a tour of Atlanta or something. Guess you guys didn't get that far."

She shakes her head. "No, I didn't hear from Embry until two days ago on Jasper's boat. But . . ." she trails off, scratching at the seam of the Deer Park label on the bottle. "I uhhh—I would've stayed in Atlanta but I ran into my ex last month, which in and of itself is aggravating enough, but this time he appeared with his mistress, who looked like she was about to pop with a baby."

My eyes widen and I put my burger back on the plate, sitting back in the chair.

What.

A.

Motherfucker.

"Yeah, my eyes looked similar to yours." She points at my face. "Turns out she wasn't quite ready to deliver, but she _is_ pregnant with his twins."

I stare at Bella, frozen, not sure when a reaction or interruption would be appropriate.

She picks up the cap to her bottle and taps on it with her fingernail. "He uhhh—well, he cheated on me sometime last year, last fall. And I found out about it in January." Her gaze finds mine and she rolls her eyes as if it doesn't bother her too much anymore. "I confronted him; he came clean, and said he was scared." She throws up air quotes sarcastically, her words biting in her tipsy state. "In a moment of drunken stupidity, while he was away on business, he fell into bed with this girl. Said he'd been feeling the pressure of my biological clock. I'd been asking for over a year to try for a baby, but he kept putting me off." She stops again to take a gulp of her water. "Then he ended up continuing the affair, and karma—at its finest—stepped in, and his little hooch got knocked up with twins."

I look down, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to play the cool-but-understanding friend. The problem is, I can vividly remember the fury that surged through me the night of Emmett's wedding when that prick took off with Leah, and I was left looking like a tool on the sidelines. I gum and bite my lips, lifting my gaze to Bella again.

"I'm so sorry. Intelligent and comforting words are uhhh—they're escaping me right now."

She picks up her burger again and dips it in the little pool of ketchupy-mustard she made on the side of her plate. "That's okay." She takes a bite and then covers her mouth before speaking again, "you can say something dumb and uncomfortable if you'd like." She giggles, continuing to chew.

I shake my head slowly. "He's a fucking loser who never deserved you. I mean, who does that?" I pound my fist on the table and look away, muttering, "Selfish asshole . . . snake in the grass." I stare into her caring eyes. "I hate that he did that to you."

She lifts her shoulder matter-of-factly. "It sucked—sucks. I mean, we had a great time together. He loved me for a long time but then he loved his freedom more." She raises her eyebrows. "What are ya gonna do?"

"I should've fucking laid his ass out the night of that wedding. That would've been a start."

She snorts. "Yeah, well . . . that might've helped, but he wasn't alone in that. Your date seemed more than eager to leave with him. What was up with that?"

I shake my head, my eyes narrowing, remembering how humiliated I felt. "She'd been a close friend for a while back then. With me during one of the bouts of depression when the meds I was taking to try and regrow my hair weren't working." I scratch my cheek and then run my finger over my brow. "I'd wanted more for us, confided in her. Thought she'd stick by me . . . turns out she only ever looked at me like a friend."

"And you'd hoped she might've changed her mind?"

"We'd been—y'know . . ." I trail off, suddenly unnerved at talking about my sexual history with Bella, so I go for vague. She's a smart girl, she'll get it. ". . . together-together for close to a year. She jumped at the chance to come to the wedding with me. I assumed it meant she was ready to take the next step and make our relationship official."

"Yeah, you know you weren't invited with a guest to that, right?" Bella puffs up her cheeks, eyes wide, like she just spilled an econo-size can of beans. "That was cold." She shakes her head, hissing to herself. "Residual effects of the vodka . . . sorry."

I quirk my brow, confused. "What? I didn't crash that wedding; I was invited!" I answer, shaking my head.

She points at me. "Oh, yes, _you_ were invited. Mr. Edward Cullen." She cocks her head. "The invitation didn't say 'Edward Cullen and Guest,' though. Trust me, I was there when we wrote them out."

My jaw slackens, still in disbelief. "Wh—I mean, really? Damn, that seems obnoxious of me. Wow, I guess I just—what was I? Twenty-four?" I wave my hand. "I probably assumed that everyone goes with a date."

"I wasn't there with a date," she challenges.

I scoff. "Could've fooled me, sister. That ass was all over you." Popping the last of the burger in my mouth, I chase it with some water.

"Well, it was a welcome distraction at that point, to be honest. I wanted you there without a date, Edward." She shrugs. "Hoped maybe we could reconnect. But that couldn't happen because you showed up with one of Barker's Beauties."

I tip my head back, laughing. God, I love that she keeps me laughing. "I'm—I'm sorry. I was pretty distracted by her that night, I admit it. But if it makes you feel any better, yeah, she was standing next to me, but my eyes were on you plenty. You looked gorgeous that day."

She glances down shyly. "Thank you. I certainly dressed to impress."

"It worked."

Breathing deeply, she runs her hand over her wavy hair. "I guess it did; I'd been hoping to impress _you_ , though. But after chasing your girl's skirt, Tyler eventually came after me."

I stretch back in my chair, lifting my clasped hands to the top of my forehead. "I overestimated Leah that night. I figured I might rank more than a douche with a pretty face."

She smirks. " _You_ have a pretty face."

"Yeah, but I'm not a douche." My comeback is quick, but I wink, hoping she knows I'm trying to keep things from getting too heavy.

"Can I ask you a question?"

She covers her plate with a napkin, causing me to chuckle and point. "Are you laying your dinner to rest?" I ask.

"What?" she says, giggling and then nods. "Oh, yeah, I always do that when I feel full so that I won't keep picking at my plate. Helps when you're watching your waistline, you know?"

I dip my chin. "I get the concept, but I promise you . . . there's uhhh—nothing at all for you to be worried about there." I swallow tightly, feeling a little embarrassed, but come the fuck on, she's spectacular and curvy like a woman should be, but still looks like she could take State in the hockey finals. Bella tries to hide her smile and it emboldens me. "Seriously."

"Well, thank you. But I still want to ask you that question."

I raise my palm. "Shoot."

"That night after the reception, when I walked you to your car . . . you took my phone number."

My heart sinks because I know where this is going.

"You told me it would hurt your feelings when you thought I gave you a bogus number. I promised it was real, and you said you'd call the next day."

I nod, my eyes closing slowly and toss my napkin on the table. "I guess I _can_ be a douche sometimes."

A sad smile twists to the side of her mouth. "I still don't think you're a douche, I never did. But if Leah hurt you so badly by leaving with Tyler, why did you allow her back into your life?"

I swallow the guilt and self-deprecation and go for honesty. "I overlooked it because she begged my forgiveness. She said nothing happened with him and I wanted to believe her. I—" I stop and sigh, looking away again, ashamed of my pathetic behavior. Years of desperation had me clawing at anything that remotely resembled attention, especially from a female. Thank God for therapy and meds. "I needed her, Bella. I needed her because I didn't have anybody else who'd been close to me at the time, and I was terrified of being alone and miserable."

There, I said it. I scrub my hands over my face without making eye contact and stand, grab my plate from the table, and move to the sink. Seconds later, her presence, the incredible warmth from her presence is radiating right behind me at the counter.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to pry and push. I—I don't want to be the reason you hurt." She sniffles. "That's the last thing I want from me being here. We don't have to—"

"But I want to," I interrupt, turning to face her. "I want to be able to say these things because nobody knows them. Nobody knows them but my parents and brother . . . if there was ever anybody else I wanted to know what I'd really been dealing with . . . really going through, it would've been you— I _want_ it to be you." I stop talking because I can hear my voice starting to shake, and I don't want to turn into a complete pussy and cry in front of Bella. Not on the first damn night I've seen her in over seven years.

She cups her hands over her nose and mouth, her eyes welling with tears. Her crying, though, it doesn't piss me off or freak me out, it proves to me what I always knew from a lifetime ago.

This girl has a bigger heart than anyone I've ever known.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she croaks out, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Please don't pity me, Bella," I request, quietly, looking down. "It is what it is. I worked on myself for a long time to be able to admit all I've battled over the years, and I'm better now; way better than I used to be, and I'm still making progress." I reach out and pull her hands away from her face. I even wipe the tears off her cheeks. It's instinct. I remember doing it many times when we were kids and she'd crash her bike, ending up with bloody knees and elbows. "When I found someone I thought I could trust, I let them in and held onto them with all I had . . . until they inevitably left me when my reality was too much for them to deal with. I don't have to do that anymore. I've gotten past that. I'm learning to handle this disease and what I'm still capable of, what I can still do with my life."

She nods, looking off to the side, even chuckling at the puppies who curled up in their bed a while ago and are sleeping on top of each other. When she looks back at me, her eyes still glassy, it's showing me nothing but pure heart and soul.

"I can handle it, too . . . if you'll let me. And this isn't about pity; it wouldn't have been back then, and it definitely won't be in the future. It's about me wanting to be in your life and wanting you in mine." Though her sentiment is barely above a whisper, it's like a booming thundercloud of strength and promise.

"Which is why I said earlier that I'm done with extended absences from you," I reiterate. The same pit in my stomach that used to plague me when we were kids begins to form. And it's because of her. Because of her I'm feeling thankful, and I'm scared, and I'm hopeful, and I'm wondering . . . about us. "I want that, too."

"Well, I'm glad we're on the same page, then." Her look is thoughtful . . . hopeful.

"Can I h—hug you?" My voice is gruff. I'm full of nerves because this moment feels so different. So fucking different from any other moment I've ever had with her . . . with anyone.

It's all new. And new is good. New is fucking fantastic.

She steps forward, tipping her head into my chest and weaving her arms underneath mine while I wrap her into my embrace. She melts into my grasp with a sigh, and my heart beats in double time because it finally knows it's safe. It's doing a damn Irish jig inside because, with Bella, it's always been in the best hands. We stand there for I don't know how long, finding comfort in the peaceful moment, in the silence, in the sanctuary of each other's arms.

"I'll tell you everything, but I won't lay it all on you tonight," I promise her. "Too much drama in one sitting."

She nods against my chest. "And I'll tell you my soap opera-style saga eventually, too."

"It's been a long day." I glance at my watch, seeing it's close to nine. "You must be exhausted."

Sniffling, she steps back and brushes the remaining moisture from her face. "Yeah, my body feels like it's bedtime, or at least pajama time. I should get going."

I frown, remembering she's all the way downtown. I'm beat, she's beat . . . we were both drinking. This doesn't feel right.

"Why don't you just stay?" I offer, but her face is masked in doubt. "Seriously, stay here. I want to drive you, but this day has officially wiped me, and I have to be up at quarter after five tomorrow morning. And after the day you've had, I don't want you to drive when you're this tired, not to mention that we drank quite a bit earlier."

She makes a face. "Edward, I really, really, really don't want to impose. I never in a million years expected you to put me up while I visited."

"I know you didn't. Let's just say it's for tonight. I have to work tomorrow, so after I head out and you're up and moving, if you want to go explore and check into your hotel, do it then. But don't leave tonight. Let your body rest before you push yourself to do anything else."

She pulls her lip between her teeth, deliberating.

I widen my arms. "I have this three-bedroom house and nobody uses it except for me and Embry once every few months. Please?" I'm not above begging. "Please just do this for me tonight."

"Okay," she agrees. "Let me go grab my bags."

"No, let me."

I follow her out the door after she gets her key and unlocks it. She's got one smallish blue floral suitcase and a matching carry-on in the backseat.

"Hey, Edward!" I glance across the street to Sydney's front lawn and see Cassie and Carly, the Budweiser twins, waving their beers and cigarettes. "You coming?"

I give them a chin nod of a hello, closing the car door. "No, I have a friend in from out of town. Can't. Sorry." I head back toward Bella who's waiting near the front door. Her hair is blowing in the warm night air while she leans against the column. My insides flip a little more at the sight.

I still can't believe she's really here.

She follows me into in the house, and I head for the staircase.

"Maybe we should clean up in the kitchen first," she suggests.

"Oh, no, I'll get it. You're my guest; you shouldn't worry about it." I jerk my chin toward the steps. "Let me just get you into bed—get you to the bedroom—show you to the bedroom." I feel my eyes bug out of my skull. _Jesus._ Get your shit together, Edward.

She snickers and tosses back what I said to her earlier. "Relax, I know what you meant." She winks and turns toward the kitchen.

While I store the leftovers and load the dishwasher, Bella continues to clear the table.

"So what has you up and out the door at such an early hour tomorrow morning?"

"I've been working at a garage for the last few years while I finished college and grad school." I take the dinner plates she hands me and run them under the hot water. "The hours work well for my classes, and when we're slow, Harry lets me study."

She smiles, closing the refrigerator door. "That's fantastic. I don't mean to sound patronizing or superior when I say this, but I'm so happy for you that you finished school."

I squeeze the sponge, shut off the water, and lean against the counter to face her. "Thanks. I am too."

"Well, now this is a shame," she says, shifting gears and pointing to the last two lemon wedges and the blender still containing close to a cup of Shamrock Shake. "Nobody's driving . . . there's no need to waste this deliciousness."

I lift my hands in surrender. "No argument from me," I answer, chuckling, and pass her two shot glasses and two highballs.

She holds up the swallow of green shake. "Sláinte."

"Sláinte," I answer, tapping her glass. "Damn, that stuff is good. I definitely need to make that again someday."

"And now this." Bella pours the vodka into our shot glasses as I dip the edges of the lemons in sugar. She licks the skin between her thumb and index finger and holds her hand out for me to sprinkle some sugar there, too. I do the same on my hand.

"To old friends," she says with a smile.

My grin matches hers. "And new chapters."

We lick, slam, and suck, and she adds a shimmy with a squeak. "Whew! I'm gonna sleep well tonight," she giggles. "Now the kitchen's clean."

I lick my lips of the sugar remnants and load the last few items to the dishwasher. "Ready to head upstairs?

She holds her arm out. "Lead the way."

.

.

.

At the top of the steps, I turn left into the first room, placing her suitcases in the corner. "Hopefully you'll be comfortable in here. It's not much, but I don't get too many unexpected guests."

She looks around, checking out the framed pictures on the wall I've taken over the years in Sedona, Vegas, Grand Canyon, and Hoover Dam. "It's more than fine . . . perfect, actually."

I point my thumb over my shoulder and lean against the door frame. "Bathroom's across the hall. You'll probably be the first person to ever use my guest towels."

"Embry didn't shower when he stayed?"

I bark out a laugh. "That pig uses his same soccer towel everywhere he goes. It's his lucky towel." I use air quotes. "He'll probably frame it if Liz doesn't get her hands on it and burn it first."

"I liked her a lot," she says with a smile, sitting at the edge of the bed. "They match."

I nod and step in the room, joining her on the bed. "Yeah, they do."

She bounces up and down a few times, sighing. "Comfy. I think I'll sleep like a baby tonight.

"Should be. This sucker was shrink-wrapped in storage for years. It's my childhood bed."

She stills and then faces me. "I get to sleep in _the_ Edward Cullen's bed tonight?"

"Yyyyyyes, you do." I roll my eyes and smile.

Bella makes an excited face, like I just told her she won a trip to Disney World. She's gotta let this popular thing go . . . but for now, I'll deal with it. We can't change how we saw each other in the past, but we can damn sure try to fix how we'll see each other in the future.

"I'm joking," she giggles, leaning into me, and I shake my head some more, staring straight ahead. "I mean, I'm not, but I'll try to keep the teenage squealing to a minimum."

"Hey, I imagine having Bella Swan sleep in your bed was the fantasy of plenty of teenage boys back in the day." _Including mine._

She snorts. "Yeah, okay, whatever. But seriously, if I had my Slambook tonight, I'd totally be able to fill in my ultimate wish page."

I shove her shoulder playfully and her head tips back while she laughs some more.

"Slambook," I repeat with a chuckle. "I haven't heard that word in decades." I can't help but smile wider when she waggles her eyebrows.

Goofball.

I rub my hands up and down my thighs and stand, knowing I need to say an appropriate goodnight. "Well, I'm gonna let you enjoy your teenage moment, then." I open my palm and she puts her hand in mine before I squeeze gently. "Sleep well."

"G'night, and thanks again, Edward."

I wink and step away toward the door. Before leaving, I turn, my hand clasping the molding. "Hey listen, if you track down that Slambook, keep it handy." I shrug, trying to keep my own temptations at bay. "Maybe we can work on some more of those pages together."

She suppresses a smile, twisting it toward the corner of her mouth. "Deal." Her knowing look suggests that she might be open to that very real possibility.

I'm just shy of elated. "Goodnight, Bella."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: Hooray for sleepovers!**

 **Big love and thanks to my fiery team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. And to all my faithful readers and reviewers, thank you so much for being here. I love hearing from all of you. Please keep sending me your love notes. They warm my heart, especially at this time of year when we could always use an extra hug.**

 **xo, Jen**


	18. Chapter 18

**Happy New Year and welcome back! Hope you've gotten alerts and are all caught up. Really quickly for the readers who've asked: a SLAMBOOK was very popular in the late 80s. It was a decorative notebook in which you and your friends (identified only by one consistent sticker throughout the book) answered questions from the innocent to the not-as-innocent. Favorite color-types of questions all the way to who is the meanest girl in school and who do you want to kiss/more?, etc . . . certainly scandalous enough for pre-teens in the mid to late 80s.**

* * *

 **(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

 **BPOV**

After throwing on my pajamas, I make quick work of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and rubbing a dash of powder under my boobs. The relief is instantaneous. They've been sweating like a set of—well, like a set of boobs in Arizona in August, I imagine. I mean every woman living out here must do this, right? Surely being tightly confined in one hundred four-degree weather warrants a dash of powder for comfort. Arriving on the doorstep of my long-lost-lifelong crush only added the extra layer of anxiety and sweat-ability. If I'd had powder in my purse, I would've taken care of my situation earlier in the evening, but I just had to suck it up and pray I wasn't showing any water marks under the girls. I think— _I hope_ —I made it through with Edward being none the wiser.

I climb into bed, phone in hand, and flick through my missed messages. Seven total, six of which are from Rosalie, causing me to snort. Jasper's is simple: _Glad you're safe. Have fun. Be Good. Love you._

Rosalie's texts would have me laughing out loud, but I stifle myself knowing Edward is down the hall and has to get some rest before his workday begins at oh-dark-thirty. Anyway, you've gotta love her. I was the same way after her first date with Emmett. The progression of nuttiness unfolding is so typical.

 _5:02 p.m. Okay, it's been an hour. I'm assuming he didn't throw you out. YAY! How'd the hello go?_

 _7:11 p.m. C'mon, girl. We're going on hour three since your last transmission. What's the story? Are you nekkid yet? ;)_

 _7:48 p.m. You're killin' me, Smalls._

 _8:23 p.m. Isabella, my clock reads almost 10:30 EST and you arrived more than four hours ago! I love the fact that you haven't gotten back to me, but I also hate it. CALL ME! Why wo—_

 _8:24 p.m. Sorry, Em snatched the phone and hit send. He says I'm harassing you, but we all know better. Are things okay? At least type back 1 for yes and 2 for no._

 _9:09 p.m. I can't keep my eyes open. The kids ran us ragged at Sesame Place today. I love you and I forgive you for ignoring my pleas. Just don't let it happen again, LOL. Call me when you wake up, Sister Christian. xo_

Now I'm going to have Night Ranger stuck in my head while I try to fall asleep. Not that it's a bad thing; that song is one of my favorites. I decide to put Rosalie out of her misery and send a quick message back. It's been almost a half hour since she texted me; she might be down for the count already.

 **I'm alive and things are going well, like, really well. Oh, and I'm sending you this message from his bed.**

I snicker, knowing that line will drive her bananas, but I decide to end it with a promise of good stories in the morning.

 **Guaranteed call for you tomorrow. Love you.**

I place my phone on the nightstand and roll over while visions of Edward and me as kids dance in my head.

.

.

.

 _Stop the madness._

 _Make it go away._

I twitch, squinting one eye open at the sound of my phone's alarm playing the samba. It always reminds me of the Casio keyboard I had when I was a little girl. Jasper and I would make up dance routines to the demo music. We kept our parents in stitches. Today the sound is nowhere near as pleasant. I can't believe I didn't turn off my crack-of-dawn alarm, now waking me up two hours earlier because of the damn time difference. It says six but my body says four. I mean, _holy shit_ . . . did anyone get the plate of the Mack truck that plowed into me?

My head is pounding and I'm beyond exhausted, but I somehow find the strength to silence the noise. With my head still nestled in the fluffy pillow, I reach for my purse on the floor and feel around until I locate my bottle of Tylenol. I hope it holds up to its promise of being the rapid release formula. I really wasn't anywhere near drunk when I turned in for the night. Yes, I'd been tipsy earlier in the afternoon and evening, but by the time we started ousting and cataloging the skeletons in our closets, sobriety had descended in a fierce way.

The half-filled glass of water on the nightstand allows me to stay put rather than stumble to the bathroom to swallow the pills. I lift my head and neck up to a mere forty-five degree angle, down the remedy, and promptly stuff my upper body back into the comfort of Edward's childhood bed.

My eyes pop open.

 _Edward._

Oh, my God, I'm in his bed, in his house . . . in his presence. Granted, he's not in the room at the moment—I assume he made it to work—but my sentiments are still entirely valid; he'll be back later! My quick reality check has me roll over and bury my face into the mattress, kicking and squealing like a seven-year-old.

Did yesterday really happen? I grab for my phone, ready to call Rosalie when I see that I have two sets of text messages waiting for me again. The first is from a number I don't recognize, and the second is from Rose with the number three in parentheses. I giggle. Poor girl tried to track me down even after she'd claimed she headed to bed. I bet she wants to skin me alive, but I decide to back up and read over the other text first.

It's from a 480-number and arrived just twenty-five minutes ago.

 _Good morning. Bet you're wondering how I got your number. Called Embry because I didn't want to wake you and he sent it to me. I hope you got a decent night's rest. Like I said last night, I'm hoping to be back a little after two. There's a note waiting for you in the kitchen if you haven't seen it already._

It's no surprise that I'm still smiling after reading it for the fourth time. He has my number, and now I have his. It may seem odd that this digit exchange is arriving _after_ I've slept in his bed, but in thirty-seven years we haven't grasped the conventional way of doing things anyway, so bizarre and backward makes sense for us.

 **Hi. Just woke up. I'll probably get cleaned up and then leave to check out the area, including where my hotel is located. Although you mentioned there are places that are closer, maybe I'll look into those, too. Either way, call me when you get home. I'll go look for your note. Hope your day goes well. :)**

I read and reread the message to make sure I don't sound like I'm trying too hard or not trying enough. After placing a few commas and adding, then deleting, then adding again the smiley face at the end, I send the text and breathe. You're not negotiating world peace, Isabella. Get a damn grip.

Next up are Rosalie's messages.

9:58 p.m. _You're WHERE?!_

10:00 p.m. _DON'T YOU DARE GO TO SLEEP, SWAN!_

10:04 p.m. _I can't believe you fucking fell asleep. You owe me a call in the morning & you owe Emmett something nice, too. I woke him up with my scream after reading your text & he blames me, but it's your fault. I had to blow him to calm him down. That's twice in one night, sister. I need a damn pain pill for my TMJ now! You're SO picking up the tab next time we all go to Pic's. Phone call. Tomorrow. I'm not kidding._

Knowing the kids have probably had Rosalie up and moving for at least an hour, I hit call and wait for the lambasting to begin.

" _Oooooh, girl, are you lucky. I would've given you until eight your time and then shit would've hit the fan in an epic way."_

I giggle. "Stow your dirty diapers. I'm here and can talk now."

" _Okay, start with sleeping in his bed; are you serious? Like, already?"_ Her concern is evident. Maybe the mixed message I sent wasn't as funny as I thought it had been.

"No, relax, we didn't have sex. Didn't even come close. I slept in his guest room, down the hall, in his childhood bed."

" _Eww, like in the bed he peed in?"_

My face scrunches in disgust. "No, you idiot. It's not like it's a toddler or twin bed. They moved across town when he was thirteen. I think he got it then."

" _Okay, so the one he had during his wet dream phase. Even better."_

Oh, Rosalie. I palm my eyes and laugh before she goes on. _"But next topic, I thought you were staying at a hotel. What changed?"_

"We'd been drinking and he didn't want me to drive at all, let alone so far away. Apparently the place I reserved is almost forty-five minutes from his house."

" _Oh, that sucks."_

I dig at the crust in my eyes. "Yeah, so he borderline-begged me to stay, and I figured, what the hell?"

" _Really?"_ She squeals.

"I'm gonna scope out the town and see if I can find something closer to his place for tonight, though. I don't want to just assume it's cool that I move in. He wants to spend more time with me." Rosalie squeaks again before I can amend. "As friends."

" _Maybe more?"_

"I don't know. Whatever it is, it's going to be slow. Like painful snail's pace slow which is totally fine if that's what he needs or whatever."

" _Maybe that's not such a bad thing. You're life's been a shit storm lately."_

I nod, hearing her thoughts. "True."

" _Okay, so spill. How did it all go down?"_

 _._

 _._

 _._

After thirty-five minutes of dissecting the interactions between Edward and me with a fine-toothed comb and also touching on the questionable neighbor and runway model-ish ladies who were eager to say hello to him, I'm ready to turn my brain off and go scrub yesterday's grime off me.

"All right. I need to get my day started. I feel a little strange being in his house without him here. I want to get going as soon as possible." I refuse to acknowledge my crazy pants side, which is desperate to go snooping in his bedroom, sniff his pillow, see if he's a boxers or briefs guy.

I shake my head, squashing my idiocy.

" _Yeah, I get it. Listen, I'm super happy for you that yesterday went better than expected. Sounds like he's in a place in his life where he can make some positive changes, and he knows—like we all do—that having Bella Swan in your corner makes life more fun and a much happier place to be."_

"Thanks, sis. I appreciate it. I promise I won't send you any more messages that get us into trouble with Emmett and in turn end up aggravating your TMJ." I assure. "Wings and pitchers on me when I'm home for Thanksgiving."

" _Deal. When you figure out how long you're gonna stay out there and where you'll be, keep me updated. I just want to know where you are in time and space."_

"Will do. Thanks for being my soul sister. I couldn't have done this without you."

" _Sure you could've . . . it just wouldn't have been half as much fun,"_ she says with a laugh and I agree. _"Love you. Tell Edward he's officially on the hook for reaching out to Emmett."_

"I will. Talk to you soon."

We say goodbye, and I tip toe to my door. Not sure why I do it. I know Edward is at work, but it feels so strange to be in a new place without him escorting me. Plus, I don't want to drive the puppies crazy. I'm sure if they know somebody's in the house, they'll want to be out of the crate they share during the day.

I take my shower in record time, shaving all the crucial places and after I'm dried off, I make sure to slather plenty of powder under the boobs. I laugh, spotting my compact hair dryer in my carry-on. No way in hell I'm going to voluntarily blow heat on my head. I'm sure my hair will dry in an instant when I'm back out in the open air. I twist it up into a clip, thrilled it'll be off my neck once the wall of heat outside collides into me.

After the bed is remade and I've left no evidence of ever being an overnight guest, I make my way downstairs to grab a bottle of water for the road. On the counter, I find the note he mentioned next to a box of blueberry Pop-Tarts.

 _Bella,_

 _Hopefully, by now you've gotten the text I intend to send in the next few minutes. Spending the afternoon and evening with you yesterday meant more to me than you can ever know. I'm so thankful for what we shared all those years ago, and I hope we can start a new page from here on out. I don't mean to be getting this deep at twenty after five in the morning, but let's just say I tossed and turned for quite a while knowing you were in my home, just down the hall._

 _Be safe driving around today. If you're available, I'd love to take you to dinner to my favorite Mexican place in town. Yes, Edward Cullen just asked you out on a date. I'll pause while you fill in your Slambook page._

 _Anyway, you'll hear from me via text shortly. Have a good one._

 _Edward_

 _PS- I went out on a limb and put out the Pop-Tarts for your breakfast of champions. I haven't wavered since childhood, so I figured maybe you hadn't either. No frosting necessary. Plain will always be better. And don't let the pups guilt you into letting them out. You'll never get them back in!_

I giggle at his honest assessment of Lucy and Linus, who've been eyeing me with their noses poking through their crate since they sensed I'd entered the kitchen.

"Sorry, guys," I murmur in their direction while popping open the box and snatching a package like I found Wonka's Golden Ticket. Spotting the toaster next to the stove, I sashay over to the appliance, high as a kite after reading my first love note from Edward. Granted, the word love wasn't mentioned, but that's okay. What he said was perfect as far as I'm concerned. We're in tune with each other for the first time in, like, thirty years. This is definitely something to celebrate.

.

.

.

By 8:30, I'm sitting in the parking lot of the Hilton Doubletree, debating whether I should bother. It looks lovely and upscale, but borderline hoity-toity. I'm already feeling out of place in my Hyundai Elantra rental, surrounded by the Escalades, Beamers and Mercedes convertibles. The Carefree Resort, which I passed earlier and is less than ten minutes from Edward's house, seems much more my speed.

After running into the hotel and canceling the two remaining nights I'd reserved, I decide to double back toward the other hotel, listening to the satellite radio along the way. A billboard for a gas station and auto body shop catches my attention when I see the name "Harry's" plastered across it in bright red letters. Edward mentioned that his boss's name is Harry. I'm less than fifteen minutes from Edward's house. My eyebrow rises to a point as my inner Encyclopedia Brown instincts tell me this is probably the place he works.

I waffle for another mile when I see the station coming up on my right. _Oh, why the hell not?_ For the first time in thirty years, I'm not playing hard to get. There shouldn't be any harm in stopping by to say hello.

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 **EPOV**

"Yo, Ed! You got a visitor!" Seth shouts from outside the bay.

My interest is piqued but I've got my head and neck wrenched trying to get this fucking timing belt switched out. "Gimme a minute!"

Once I lay out the parts like the good car surgeon I am, I take a step back to roll my neck and shoulders. I swear these are some of the most labor-intensive procedures. At least when this is done it'll just be a couple of batteries and tune-ups waiting for me till I can close out for the day. Harry and Mike can argue over who gets the catalytic converter that came in late last night.

Slipping my sunglasses back on, I move toward the front of the shop. It's bright as hell as compared to being inside the belly of a car.

When I see Bella, my heart leaps. It seriously fucking leaps.

I swipe my grimy hands along the back pockets of my jeans and meet her at the bay door.

"Well, this is a surprise."

"Good morning," she offers, sunshine glowing around her, showcasing her ethereal beauty. Like she was fucking sent from heaven. "Hope stopping by won't get you into trouble."

I wave my arm and scoff. "Not at all. I practically run this place with Harry, and I never take time off. Chatting for a few minutes won't even raise an eyebrow."

She smiles. "Thanks for the Pop-Tarts."

"Oh, did you like those?" I shrug, grinning back at her. "I took a chance."

"Definitely. There are some things that never change," she says with a small laugh. "Plain Pop-Tarts are the only way to go."

And now the true test. "Did you toast them?"

She smirks, and I know in an instant she ate them the same way I always do, the way we both have since we were kids. "Just the one. The other stays raw, of course."

"Of course." I nod, satisfied and pull my right arm across my chest to stretch it out. "So what's your plan for the day?"

"I found the Doubletree but didn't bother checking in. I think I'm gonna head back toward your end and go with The Carefree Resort."

For a split second, my breathing picked up, thinking she was leading into going back to my house to stay. I wouldn't have argued. At all. But at least now she'll be just ten minutes away.

"Perfect. I've heard customers say it's a nice spot."

She nods. And I nod. And we're a little awkward. But I guess we still need to find our footing, so I'm not going to panic.

"Do y—you get a lunch hour?" she hedges, her voice laced with a tremor.

I crinkle my nose, a little embarrassed at what I'm about to admit. It's territory I haven't been in for so long. "Uhh, I usually do, but I told Harry I'm gonna work through it because I wanted to get home an hour earlier to see you."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did," I assure, surprised that she hasn't yet grasped how pumped I am that she came out to see me. "I want to be able to spend as much time with you as possible. You never did say how long you plan on staying out here."

She tucks some hair that's fallen from her clip behind her ear. "I guess I figured I'd take each day as it comes, but that also depends on your job. I don't want to keep you from work."

"It's not gonna be a problem." I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the wall. "I talked to Harry about my schedule, and I'm clear for the rest of the week. And he told me next week was mine if I want it, too."

She huffs, pulling her lip between her teeth. "Taking all that time off just to entertain me?"

"Hey, there's nothing _just_ about any of this. You—here?"—I widen my arms—"Coming to find me in Arizona? It's an opportunity to reconnect with you in a way I never thought I'd be given. I refuse to let this moment slip through my hands . . . through our hands."

"Okay," she agrees with a shy smile. "You won't hear any arguments from me."

I nod once. "Good. Well listen, I should get back,"—I jerk my head to the garage—"but I'll call you when I get home, okay?"

"Definitely. I'm gonna check into the Carefree and maybe take a nap. Let my body catch up with itself."

I step away, my palm raised. "Sounds good. Talk to you later." She says goodbye, and I meet Seth, who joins me at the bay door, wiping his grease-covered hands with a rag.

"That's some woman you got there, Ed."

I playfully shove his head. "Eyes off, but yeah . . . she's something else. Don't know that I've got her, though." I watch her pull out of the lot and take off north toward the hotel. "I need to work on that part."

.

.

.

"I've never had a bad meal here; I think you'll like it," I say softly as Bella and I follow the hostess to our table in the corner. Blue Adobe Grille is popping tonight. While we walk through the crowd of yuppie suburbanites, my hand rests low on her back. I love that she didn't stiffen when I put it there a few seconds ago. In fact, she kind of curled her body toward mine in the subtlest of ways. Most people might not have caught it, but I did.

"Your waitress will be with you shortly," the hostess explains, handing a menu first to Bella and then me.

"Thanks." My gaze finds Bella. "How you doing?"

She tucks some hair behind her ear. "I'm fine, Edward. You've asked me that three times already." She cocks her head. "Are _you_ all right?"

I breathe deeply. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just feeling a little nervous, to be honest."

"Long time between dates?"

I shake my head. "It's the company I'm with tonight." I reach for my glass of ice water and begin to chug while her brows furrow.

"I'm making _you_ nervous?" She sounds stunned, sputtering a giggle through her words. "Me. How—how is that possible?"

"You still don't see yourself clearly. Or at least you don't see you like I do."

We're interrupted when a server rushes past and drops a bowl of chips and salsa on our table.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table while Bella tips her head in to hear me. "I think we established last night that we both have very different realities and accounts of what went on when we were kids." My thumb swipes a drip of moisture trailing down the water glass. "We can't do anything about what happened back then. But I'm attempting to be as transparent as possible with you. You showing up on my doorstep yesterday was like an extra surge of electricity to my mind . . . and my heart." I glance to the side, organizing my thoughts into words. "I don't know, like finding the long-shot gift you asked for under the Christmas tree."

She looks up at me through her lashes, smirking slightly at my analogy.

"I promised myself a few months ago I'd put myself out there more. Be willing to allow somebody in. I never—" my throat thickens with happy nerves, and I stop to clear it—"never imagined I'd get the chance to be here with you, though." I bite the inside of my cheek while my finger scratches at a pulled thread on the blue tablecloth. "I'm just happy, really happy you're here. And I want you to know that I plan to make the most of our time together."

The smile she tries to hide spurs me on to confess a bit more.

"Do you remember we had a caterer for our eighth-grade graduation dance?"

Her incredulous look tells me she's trying to follow my train of thought. "Yeah?"

I shake my head, remembering. "I hated that."

"Why? I'm sure it was a decent meal they served, not that I can remember," she laughs. "Wasn't it catered by Chez Robert?"

I shrug. "Maybe. I just remember so clearly how bummed I was when we couldn't take our date out to dinner privately. I wanted to take _you_ out to dinner."

Her chin juts forward. "But you went to the dance with Tracy Pearson."

"Only because the girl I wanted to go with had a date already."

Bella stares blankly back at me. "You're telling me you wanted to go with me to the graduation dance."

I sigh. "Is that so hard to believe?"

She widens her eyes, grabbing for a chip. "After learning all I did yesterday? No, not hard to believe. I'm just wondering why you didn't ask me."

"I would have, but my plan fell apart without me knowing," I huff. "I went away for a long weekend in January that year. My aunt was getting married in South Carolina." I grab a chip and swirl it through the salsa. "By the time I'd gotten back, apparently I'd missed the memo and half the class already had dates, including you."

Sighing and drumming her fingers on the table, her gaze finds mine. "Nothing was ever easy for us, was it?"

"Nope. And I'm sure our insecurities only made things that much harder."

She nods, looking pensive. "How about if we make a promise, or at least a concerted effort to speak our minds and our hearts from here on out? Life is short, and we've wasted decades missing out on what had been a pretty awesome childhood friendship." Smiling, she reaches for her water. "Maybe it can be an awesome adult friendship."

I pick up my glass and tap it against hers. "Maybe it can be better than that . . . _more_ than that." I swallow tightly before adding, "I mean . . . is there a chance you could see us in that way? Would you want that? Be ready for that?" My lips press against each other while I quell my nerves and qualify my question. "Someday?"

"Hi, I'm Cassidy, I'll be your server tonight. You folks ready to order?"

Though the arrival of Cassidy the cockblock is like a bucket of ice water dousing our smoldering heads, I quirk my brow at Bella, our stares locked on each other just as she responds quietly, "More than ready."

.

.

.

"That dinner was phenomenal." Bella presses her hand to her stomach. "We might need to go back there before I take off."

I unlock and open the passenger door of my truck for Bella. "That can certainly be arranged." After closing her door, I come around and get situated behind the wheel. "My place for coffee?"

"Yeah, much better than the single pack of instant I can offer you in my hotel room," she says with a giggle.

"So, we'll stay local tomorrow, letting you catch up with your sleep again and then hit the road to the Grand Canyon Thursday. We can head to the West Rim first, try the Skywalk if you'd like."

"Have you ever done it?" she asks.

"Yeah, once. But I like going a little further north and just picnicking on the side of the Canyon on my own."

"Let's do that, then. I trust your tour."

I nod, tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel. "It'll be a shit-ton of driving, but it'll be worth it. We can find a campground on our way south and check out Sedona on Friday."

"Works for me," she agrees, settling back against the headrest.

For the remainder of the drive to my house, Bella and I exchange stories of "where we were, when" during the flood of 2004. After more than a foot of rain fell in twenty-four hours, twelve dams burst throughout Medford and other small towns in South Jersey. It caused a massive flood of water to wash away scores of personal property, cars, docks, and even some homes. Totally threw our community for a loop. Even meteorologists were stunned, calling it a thousand-year storm.

"Thank goodness nobody was killed. My parents were already living out in Arizona, but I invited one of the families they'd been good friends with growing up to stay with me," I explain. "They had eight feet of water in their basement and lost power in their house."

"That's crazy. Dad had just retired that spring, but I remember he went down to the station every day for weeks, helping out with the rescues and cleanup efforts," Bella reminisces. "I came up from Atlanta about a month later and drove around, wanting to see the damage." She shakes her head. "I've never seen anything like it. Wait,"—she smacks her thigh—"the canoe that wrapped around the tree in Jackson Park. Can you imagine how forceful the rushing water must've been to wrap a friggin' aluminum canoe clear around the trunk of a tree?"

I laugh, making the final turn onto my street. "No kidding; it was madness. I love that they never moved it. It's like a little memorial to the flood," I chuckle. "But at least all the dams are reinforced now. Blessing in disguise, I suppose." I shrug and nod. "The original was decent for a long time, but that particular storm had been powerful enough to trash it. Now with the updated features and all the care they took to make it better, there's nothing to worry about."

Bella turns toward me, a knowing smile on her face. "I guess everything could use a good overhaul once in a while."

I smile, still keeping my eyes on the road, but I glance quickly enough to send her a wink. We both know what we're both talking about . . . and I love that we're on the same page.

My eyes widen when my house comes into view. Red Toyota Camry in my driveway. Oh, boy. "So umm, looks like I have an unexpected visitor." I tip my head toward the silhouette in the doorway. "My mom."

Bella stays silent but smiling while I turn off the ignition.

"Hey, sweetie," Mom calls out as I exit the car. "Sorry I didn't call. I just found this puppy chow on sale and figured I'd stock up for both of us." She continues talking until the movement of my passenger coming around the car startles her.

"Mom—"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize," Mom pauses, shaking her head. "Bella?"

I grin, watching the exchange between the two ladies. "Hi, Mrs. Cullen."

My mother palms her cheeks before running to Bella. "Oh, my God! What in the world are you doing here?"

Smirking, I wonder for a moment if Bella might try to give my mom the same story she gave me.

"Came to see an old friend," Bella answers, gesturing to me.

"Well, I'm so glad you did. _We're_ so glad!" Mom turns to me, beaming like a loon. "So, how's everything? I mean, I know it mustn't be great. I'm so sorry to hear about your divorce." She clicks her tongue. "What a mess. How're you holding up?"

"Ma—enough." Attempting to get my mom to cease and desist with the intrusive questioning proves a lot easier than I expected when she immediately steps back from Bella.

"Oh, I know. I need to relax. And it's late and you two have—" she points her thumb over her shoulder—"lots to do, I'm sure . . . I mean, the night is young," she sings, trailing off.

 _Jesus_. My eyes pinch shut. "Ma. Probably best you quit while you're ahead."

Mom nods and steps up to give me a kiss, releasing a laughing Bella from her Kung Fu grip. "Right, quit. This is me quitting. But—you _have_ to come to dinner, please?" She turns from my arms toward Bella again. "Will you both come over tomorrow night?"

I don't know that I'm ready to share yet. Yesterday was great. Tonight's dinner was fantastic, too. We've been talking about anything and everything that's affected us, good and bad, over the years. But Bella still hasn't seen me . . . seen my head. Tonight I wore my favorite golf cap backwards. She complimented me on it, and I know it's not going to be a huge deal for her. But it is for me. And I need to conquer that next step, however big or small it might seem to somebody else.

Bella is all smiles and nodding, and I don't have the heart in that moment to break my mother's spirit, so I agree. After several more hugs and kisses, I politely push Mom toward her car before Bella and I make our way into the house.

"I just need to use the bathroom," she says, following me through the door.

"Sure. I'll get the coffee started. No drinking tonight." I laugh. "I promise to get you to the hotel in one piece and back in enough time to get a decent night's rest."

"Deal."

.

.

.

Once the coffee is dripping, I decide to just suck it up and be bold. No need to hide behind a hat or bandana anymore. If we're about to spend a few days traveling together, swimming together, camping together . . . she's going to see me eventually. Might as well rip this Band-Aid off right now. Guys our age are starting to lose their hair, probably have been for a few years; I just have to remind myself that I blend in with our age group now and get over the shock and stigma that I dealt with for over fifteen years.

Taking off the golf cap is both freeing and stomach-churning. I toss it on the kitchen table and sit down on the floor with Lucy and Linus ready to jump all over me. My insides flip when I hear the bathroom door open. This is it; no going back now.

"Well, now this is a perfect family portrait if I've ever seen one."

Her words make me smile. I find her gaze, and she simply winks at me. And I know it's all right.

There's nothing to fear here . . . with Bella, there never was.

Without missing a beat, Bella joins me on the floor, only a few inches in front of me. She starts giggling when Linus hops and stumbles over to her lap, nipping with licks and nuzzles to her hands and face as she leans in.

"Coffee's almost ready," I offer amidst the mini-howls and yelps.

"Excellent," she giggles when Lucy abandons me and joins Linus on her lap. "This is my kind of night cap. Thanks for a great night, Edward . . . and for trusting me." Her leg nudges mine.

I swallow the lump that's forming and instead breathe another sigh of relief. "Thank you," I offer sincerely, clearing my throat and tapping my fists on my knees, "for . . ." I shake my head. "For everything."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: They're getting there!**

 **Much love and thanks to Team Cabana: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. My readers are awesome. Reviews were sparse through December, probably because it's a busy time of year, but let me know if you're** **still reading! I love hearing from you.**

 **In case you're interested, a picture will be posted in the cabana of the famous canoe wrapped around the tree in Medford Lakes.**

 **xo, Jen**


	19. Chapter 19

**(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

 **EPOV**

" _Yo."_

"Finally!" My head lolls back. "You dodging me, you chicken shit?"

" _Now, why would I do that?"_ I can hear Embry's snickering all the way from Atlanta.

"Gee, I don't know." I close the lid on the washing machine, crank the dial to start, and shut the laundry room door behind me. "Maybe because Bella landed on my doorstep two days ago. I've been trying to hunt you down ever since, and you're mysteriously never available to take the call. At least you responded to my text asking for her number yesterday."

Embry silences his chuckles before responding. _"Look, I just knew you needed a few days to get the awkwardness out of the way and then you'd be thrilled she was there."_

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." I pull a box of Honey-Nut Cheerios out of the pantry and grab the milk from the fridge. "You're an ass, and you know it."

He ignores my barb. _"So_ are _you?"_

"What? An ass?"

" _Thrilled she's there! C'mon, don't hold out on me."_

I can't help my smile. "Fuck yeah. I'm happier than a pig in shit," I say, digging into my breakfast.

He hoots and hollers on the other end of the phone. _"Yeah, you are! So, how'd it all go down?"_

I recount the initial meeting to my brother, including Bella's explanation of how Embry factored into the story.

" _See? I even kept my promise. I didn't bring you up first, but that shit was hard as hell. Man, you should've been with us last weekend. Jazz's boat is outstanding."_ He whistles. _"Hunter was there; catching up with both of them was fuckin' great. You were missed. Definitely need to be at the next Laker reunion."_

Scooping the final spoonful of cereal into my mouth, I mutter, "Sounds like it was a good time."

I hear my brother shuffling papers around in the background. _"I still can't believe Bella came out to Arizona the_ day _after we got back. Never in a million years did I think she'd be that ballsy. Chick's got a set on her."_

Grinning, I swipe a paper towel across my mouth. "She's pretty great. Not that I didn't know that already."

" _But it was good to see it for yourself again, right?"_

I nod. "Yeah. We've spent the majority of the last two days together. Mom came by last night. Didn't know Bella was here,"—I snort—"damn near tackle-hugged the girl in the driveway."

Embry busts out laughing. _"Mom was probably having heart palpitations. Seeing you with a girl again? One that's worth a damn?"_

"Fuck off, but yeah, Mom seemed pretty stoked. Bella and I are heading over there for dinner tonight."

" _Nice. Getting the formalities out of the way."_

"Formalities?" I stand up from the table to get rid of my bowl and spoon.

" _Y'know, bringing the girl home to meet the parents."_ He adds a chuckle. _"That's the final step before you make the complete commitment."_

I roll my eyes, opening the dishwasher. "Dude . . . the ink is barely dry on her divorce papers. I hardly think she's ready to jump into another relationship right now." I shake my head, tossing the sponge on the back ledge of the sink. "We're still getting to know each other—"

Embry cuts me off. _"You already know each other."_

"You know what I mean. Airing out all the old shit, confessing our sob stories of the crap that's happened since then. Her ex is the biggest dick on the planet, by the way." I grab the puppies' water bowls. "I swear if I'm ever face-to-face with that fucker I don't know if I'll deck him first or shake his hand."

Embry barks out a laugh. _"Go for the hit first, definitely, although it sounds like you'll have to get in line. Jazz plans to take a whack or seven if he ever gets his hands on him; James, too."_

I sigh. "Anyway, I definitely think she's interested in something, someday . . . but we're sort of back at ground zero." I knock my fist against the table a few times. "Plus, I'm stuck here finishing my Master's; she's getting ready to settle again in Florida." My shoulders slump forward while I finish up at the sink.

Talking through the realities of our situation is bringing me down.

" _You'll figure it out. How are you feeling about her? About pursuing something other than friendship?"_

"I mean, I want to. I know she just got here, but as crazy as it sounds, I think I'm ready." I shrug. "I spent half my life daydreaming about her, wishing we were still close, but just letting other people get in our way. Meanwhile, I come to find out she'd always wanted to stay friends too, even more than friends." Moving to the family room, I stretch out on the couch, folding my left arm behind my head. "Yeah, I can see us getting together . . . I just need to keep reminding myself that she's not judging me now compared to how I used to look. I took my cap off for her last night."

" _Okay . . . and?"_

I exhale, watching Lucy and Linus get comfortable on their bed. "And nothing. She winked at me and glossed over it. We played with the puppies for the rest of the evening."

" _Is that code for naked wrestling?"_

I guffaw and try to ignore the nervous knots forming in my gut. "No, you ass. We need more time. We've danced around the topic of us and maybe even a future for us . . . but I'm wondering if it's all too fast. I don't want us to rush into something that's all wrong, meanwhile, she's just taking a breath after her divorce. I don't want to pressure her." I run my hand over my scalp and down my face. "I feel like I'm all over the place. We're about to go camping and hiking together for the next two days. Maybe we'll figure it out then."

" _I think it says a lot that she came out there, E. She was your best friend as a kid. You always cared about her. Yeah, life got in the way and separated you for a while, but what's to think about? The fucking universe is handing you two a future of happiness on a silver platter. Why do you sound unsure?"_

"It's not that I'm unsure. I just have to know that it's absolutely what she wants, too. Wants me, wants us. She's been here for less than forty-eight hours. We have to be sensible, I think." I recall the groundbreaking moment from dinner last night. "Although she did say she'd be interested in something down the road."

" _I think you two need to cut to the damn chase. Yeah, she came out there to pledge her friendship to you, but I guaran-fucking-tee she'd pledge a hell of a lot more if you told her straight out—shit, hang on, my head coach is on the other line."_

"Yup." I close my eyes for about ten seconds before my doorbell rings. Twisting my aching body off the couch is a chore. That timing belt killed me yesterday. I don't know when I did it, but I must've wrenched something in my back, and it's screaming now. I'd give myself an Icy Hot rub down if Bella wasn't coming over later. That stuff works like a charm, but I don't want to be smelling like the geriatric wing of the rehab facility where I do my clinical hours.

I'm straightened up by the time I reach the door just as Embry clicks back on the line.

" _You there? Sorry."_

"Yeah, gimme a sec, though," I answer him, pulling the front door open. Bella stands there, a bright smile on her face, wearing a short skirt, red tank top, and red flip flops. My heart rate kicks into high gear like I'm the lead car entering the final lap of the Daytona 500.

"Hey!" she greets. "I know I'm early, but I feel fully rested and want to try out your pool. It's gonna be one hundred twelve degrees today," she announces with a snort. "Figured we should splash around now before the pool becomes people soup later."

" _Is that her? HI, BELLA!"_

I yank the phone away from my ear while Embry shouts like a mad man. Bella and I can both hear him plain as day, and we chuckle in unison.

"Embry?" she whispers and I nod. "Hey, Em!"

I pull the door wide for her to enter. "I'm glad you're here. C'mon in."

" _I'm gonna let you go,"_ Embry says quietly, like we've been planning espionage or something _. "Enjoy your time together. How long is she staying?"_

I linger at the front door while Bella walks to the back of the house, being nipped and yelped at by the puppies at her ankles. "I don't know. Sounds like through the weekend, but we'll have to see how things are going for us."

" _Cool. Well, go. Seize the day and shit."_

"Thanks, man."

I pocket my cell, walking down the hall to find Bella on the floor of the family room. She's giggling while the dogs jump all over her lap. They're beyond happy with the attention she gives them, but the scene grants a peace that settles over me unlike anything I've ever experienced.

I mean, I've had moments where I've sighed in relief. Kicking ass on a test I studied for endlessly feels phenomenal. Pushing myself through a work day even when I'm dog tired but get all the repairs done, knowing I can start the next day with a clean roster provides me a great night's sleep. Even on mornings when I wake up and see that I still have hair on my limbs, sparse though it may be, I tip my head back and exhale, thankful for that small favor.

But seeing Bella in my home? Lucy and Linus climbing on her as if _she_ was the one who hand-picked them from the farm? Dropping her keys and purse on my kitchen counter like they've always belonged there?

Now that's a comfort and a level of contentment I never thought possible.

But it's here. It's here because _she's_ here.

And it wouldn't feel that way if it were just any woman . . . I'm certain of that. I feel a sense of calm knowing Bella's the one here with me. The one who was there such a long time ago is here again now. _More than ready_ : her exact words from last night run through my mind again.

So what _are_ we waiting for? I hate it when Embry is right . . . but I think he's got the market cornered this time.

"What? What are you—?"

Bella's squeaky voice and infectious laughter shake me from my thoughts, and I realize that she's wrestling with Linus, who has the string of Bella's bathing suit in his mouth, and he's a foot away from her.

"C'mere, you dirty, little scoundrel," she adds in a silly voice, tugging the black material from the snarling puppy.

He clearly thinks this is now a game.

"Linus!" Chuckling, I kneel down to pry the strap from his toothy grip. "I don't think Bella appreciates you undressing her, buddy. No means no."

Bella continues to giggle at my side, while Lucy wanders off, having lost all interest in the three of us.

"He hasn't had to learn that lesson if the only girl around him has been his big sister." Bella gets up on the couch, her hands behind her neck, retying the strings of her suit. "That and the fact that you don't dress her in little outfits."

I shudder. "Yeah, shoot me the day that happens. Although, with the temperatures out here, the dogs would probably go for my throat before they'd allow me to put another layer on them."

She agrees, kicking off her flip-flops. "Well, it's a good thing I'm still wearing my tank top or there would've been a serious, Janet Jackson-level wardrobe malfunction."

I bite my tongue, extending my arm toward the patio door instead of saying something along the lines of: _I would've gladly covered your breast for you_. Not at all appropriate for day three of our reunion. Pretty sure that's more like a day five or six line.

"So how's Embry?" Bella asks, tossing her towel on the deck chair and whipping off her tank top.

My response dies in mid-thought. _I'm sorry, who's Embry?_ How am I supposed to know anything when I'm stunned into stupidity at the sight of Bella's gloriously half-naked body? "Uhhh—"

"Oh, I apologize," she interrupts, her delicate fingers stilled at the top button of her denim mini-skirt. "Is this okay?"

 _More than okay._ I'm pretty sure I nod before forcing my brain to engage, helping my mouth form words. "Yeah, totally. Totally okay. Morning swims are the most refreshing. This time of day is when I usually get my workouts in. I mean, when I'm not working. I usually do my laps at the crack of dawn before I head to work or even late at night. Like you said earlier, it'll feel like a hot tub in a few hours . . . well, you said 'people soup,' but yeah, people soup—hot tub, same concept." I mercifully put an end to my word vomit, my eyes widening to what must be triple their size, and spin on my heels in search of the skimmer _. Must stay occupied._ Jesus, did anything I just spouted make any sense? Continuing to stare at her would be really poor form, but damn.

The last time I saw her this unclothed, we were in grade school at summer camp swim lessons.

The boys' group would arrive as the girls were dressing and leaving the docks and bleachers. Or vice versa. Either way, hiding my prying eyes back in the day was easy enough behind my Max Headroom sunglasses. Other girls might've thought I was allowing my gaze to linger in their direction. Hell, I suppose some of them might've been staring back at me, but I didn't notice and I definitely didn't care. I only had eyes for Bella. Girlfriend or not, once horny, pre-teen hormones crept into my brain and the blood rushed elsewhere, Bella was the only one I had dreams about in _that_ way.

And now she's here. No other guys or girls as distractions, and she's definitely not a kid anymore, she's a woman. A curvy, sexy woman with a mind that keeps me on my toes and a heart that's a salve to my wounded soul. She's beyond compare.

The splash of water has me turning around. Bella glides under the water from one end of the pool to the other, emerging at the edge where I stand looking down at her.

"Holy crow, I can't believe how good this feels." She adds a little moan at the end.

If Embry were here, he'd throw in a "that's what she said" right about now. My lips press together while I thank the heavens I'm wearing sunglasses again. Pretty sure I need a cold shower before I join her in the hot pool. My sweats are doing nothing to hide the growing wood I'm dealing with.

"Too hot?" I respond, recognizing I posed a very loaded question.

Bella smirks, her long lashes batting off droplets of water. "Not yet."

If I didn't know any better, I'd swear she just touché'd me with that response. My eyebrows rise above the rim of my sunglasses.

"Gonna join me for your morning workout, Aquaman?" she questions before kicking off the floor of the pool to float on her back. Her arms are stretched out, surrounded by the sparkling water and the drops that glisten all over her body. She looks like she's in a photo shoot for a Victoria's Secret ad or something.

"Definitely." This woman is sensational and it's making me weak-kneed. I send up a silent prayer to find the willpower to relax the yearning that's descended in the last few minutes. After my "amen," I turn to answer her question like the decent person I am and not some comic strip cave-man who just clubs a woman over the head and drags her behind a rock to mate.

I finish skimming off the leaves and random debris that gathered on the pool's surface since yesterday. "I'm just going to run in and change into my suit." I hang the skimmer pole on its hook along the back fence, hoping that cold shower will do the trick. "Be back in a bit."

"I'll be here, floating away!" she sings, backstroking toward the other end of the pool.

 _Not too far away, I hope._ This girl. Since the moment she arrived, she has me wearing a smile like it's going out of style. I must be the luckiest guy on the planet right now. And as much as I'd love to broach the subject of _us,_ I'd rather save it for our trip and just enjoy this moment: the sun, the pool, the skimpy bikini and the woman inside it.

Tomorrow is the day. If Bella hinted there's a yes in her future for us, being more, being together . . . I have to stop overthinking.

Tomorrow I'm going to be the one to ask if we can start the future sooner rather than later.

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 **BPOV**

"You sure you don't need any help in the kitchen, Mom?" Edward asks for the second time while Esme buzzes around the sun porch, a pitcher of margaritas in hand.

"No, honestly, I'm fine. The chicken should be done shortly. Your dad helped me prepare everything else so that we could all relax and catch up." She finishes filling the glasses and scoots back out.

Edward turns to me. "I'm going to check on my Dad and the pups, make sure they're doing okay with Snoopy."

"No problem, I'm fine," I say, sitting on the love seat glider. "Take your time."

"Just give me one more minute, Bella!" Mrs. Cullen shouts from the kitchen. "My oven timer is about to go off." Mrs. Cullen is even more wired this evening than she was last night when she found out I was in Arizona. I didn't think it was possible.

Her excitement warms me, making me remember how much I always loved her and Mr. Cullen.

Growing up, I thought Edward had the best parents. I mean, Renee and Charlie were great—still are—but my Dad had been pretty strict. In his career as police chief in Medford Lakes, he never had to deal with hardened criminals, but he also knew that kids could get into trouble very easily. In turn, Jasper and I ended up feeling the pinch when somebody else in town acted out. Mom was no better, being the administrator at the station, keeping the paperwork organized, knowing all the ins and outs of the minor criminal element in our town.

Yeah, Jazz and I were on a tighter leash than most.

But Esme and Carlisle Cullen were the coolest. Whenever Edward, Embry, Jasper, and I were playing together as kids, Esme would often ask us to stay over for dinner. The four of us had sleepovers quite a bit when we were really young, too. Especially if it was a busy partying night in the town, like Canoe Carnival or Mischief Night before Halloween. Dad was always on duty through the night, and Mom would usually stay in the office at the station to help him. So we slept at the Cullens' house and had a blast.

Mr. Cullen would set up the tent in the basement, and the four of us would roll out our sleeping bags and pillows. Mrs. Cullen passed out brown lunch bags filled with popcorn and, of course, we'd all have flashlights to tell our scary stories. The sleepovers dwindled once we hit junior high and I hit the babysitting age. My parents left me in charge of my brother by then.

Wow. How many times did I fall asleep next to Edward when I was a little girl? I can't believe I haven't thought about those memories until now. He wasn't Edward Cullen, superjock-superstar back then . . . to me, he was just Edward.

I know he laughs and brushes off the junior high and high school popular thing. Emmett was the same way in the beginning of his relationship with Rosalie. But after a while, Emmett didn't want us to tease him anymore because it made him feel like he'd been superior to us. It was important to him that Rosalie stops thinking that way.

Edward's always argued how I saw him and how he saw himself. I have a feeling that even with our rekindled friendship, I'm going to have to move past the fangirling eventually. Then, if we have any kind of chance for a future together-together, my outward expressions of the giddy school girl are going to have to be permanently shelved.

I can't believe I'm even thinking this is a possibility. I'm going to bruise if I keep pinching myself doing reality checks.

A loud clap sounds behind me. "Okay, puppies are all settled and playing together," Mr. Cullen announces. "Who's ready for a drink?"

"Here I am!" Mrs. Cullen sings, literally waltzing in with a platter of hors d'oeuvres. "Snacks are served and dinner will be ready in less than ten." She sets the dish on the coffee table and we all grab our margarita glasses.

Mr. Cullen raises his glass. "To happy times—"

"And unexpected surprises!" Mrs. Cullen adds, winking at me.

We all clink glasses and Edward and I share a knowing smile. Thankfully, neither of us seems embarrassed by his parents' antics. They're goodhearted people, and from what Edward has told me of their road, watching their eldest son suffer from alopecia and all the heartbreaking drama that came with it, I'm sure they're extremely thankful that he's smiling right now. Genuinely happy.

I'm not a parent, but I'd imagine that's all you want in your life. For your kids to be happy.

"A new recipe, Es?" Mr. Cullen grabs a chunk of what looks like piping hot stromboli from the dish.

"Pinterest strikes again; I just love that thing." She settles back in her chair. "Do you have a Pinterest account, Bella?"

I swallow down a sip of icy cold margarita and shake my head. "No, but I've heard of it. I have a Facebook account, but that's it."

Mrs. Cullen waves her arm. "Oh, I do all that stuff. Pinterest, Facebook, Skype . . . I even tweet!"

"Yup," Mr. Cullen chimes in, his mouth still full, "she's a Twitterer!"

Edward snorts and takes another gulp of his drink. "Twitterer. You two are a mess."

"I'm retired," she reasons. "I have to get my info somewhere."

Mr. Cullen coughs over her last word. "Gossip."

Edward and I snicker when Mrs. Cullen sends her husband a look. "Social media helps me keep up on the latest news and crafty tricks like this." She points to the platter. "Isn't this pepperoni bread yummy?"

We all agree as I reach for my second slice.

"So, your mom was thrilled to hear you were coming over for dinner tonight, Bella."

I pause, mid-chew. My wide-eyed stare lands on Edward, who finishes passing out the cocktail napkins his mother forgot. "Oh?"

He shrugs, unfazed, keeps eating and sits next to me on the glider. It's quite cozy, and I can't hide my grin.

"I found her on Facebook last night, then we switched over to Skype. She said she didn't even know you were here until yesterday!" Mrs. Cullen titters and I join her.

"Yeah, it was a last minute decision. Jasper knew I flew out." I wipe my mouth with a napkin. "But umm—I didn't know how long I'd be staying originally, so I only called her to catch up yesterday when I checked into my hotel.

"Oh, you're not staying with Edward?" she questions, putting her glass on a coaster. "I just assumed since you both got in later last night that—"

"Esme—"

"Mom—"

The poor woman is shot down instantly by her husband and son. I just smile, knowing these are fair questions and conclusions. "Yeah, with surprising Edward, I figured booking a hotel made sense."

"How long are you able to stay?" Mr. Cullen asks. "There are certainly enough tourist attractions to keep you busy for a while."

"She knows all that, Dad." Edward leans back, our shoulders now touching. The movement causes the glider to sway. "We're gonna head up to the Grand Canyon tomorrow and hit Sedona on Friday."

"You could check out Vegas, too."

I hum at Mr. Cullen's suggestion.

Edward turns to me. "It's up to you. Whatever you're in the mood for."

The buzzer sounds in the kitchen, and Mrs. Cullen leaps up. "Oh, that's dinner! Grab your drinks, folks, and follow me!" She congas out of the sun porch, no lie.

"Can I help you bring anything to the table, Mrs. Cullen?" I ask, entering the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.

"Goodness, no," Mr. Cullen breaks in, stepping around me. "And please, it's Carlisle and Esme, kiddo. No formalities necessary when you're a legal adult," he says with a chuckle and a gentle knock to my chin.

Edward offers the chair he pulled out for me and then settles himself across the table. He's looking so gorgeous tonight, it's impossible to avert my gaze. Jeans and a pale yellow dress shirt rolled at the elbows. The sunny color against his desert-tanned skin is swoon-worthy. Plus he's wearing his wire-rimmed glasses and a tweed golf cap backwards. I have a feeling his parents don't bristle at all when he wears his hats at their table. And of course, his dazzling smile completes the package. The laugh lines at his eyes showing his age make him even sexier to me. The evidence that he's been able to find laughter and smiles through the difficult times gives me hope that he really has moved past all the hurt he dealt with so many years ago.

When Esme puts down the platter, she stands back from the table, hands clasped. Excited shock is the only reaction I have in the moment.

"Oh my gosh, is this—is this woodchip chicken?"

Edward laughs while Carlisle chuckles and Esme claps with a squeal. "It is!" she cheers. "I'm so glad you recognized it. Yay!" She wraps her arms around Edward's shoulders and he pats his mom's hand. "I just knew I had to make it for you when you accepted the invite to dinner tonight."

My mouth waters. "You know, I tried making this a few years ago for—" I stop myself from saying my husband, or ex-husband, or even Tyler. He doesn't deserve to invade this moment, let alone this time with Edward.

Edward's responding smile is one of genuine understanding. Everyone around the table is quiet for a split second until I amend what I was about to say.

"I tried making it and definitely missed a step somewhere. My flavored bread crumb cubes didn't stick and basically burned."

Esme takes her seat at the head of the table while Carlisle brings out a dish of cranberry sauce and a basket of crescent rolls.

"Did you dredge the chicken cutlets in the lemony sour cream?"

"Nope," I laugh, raising my hand, "that was it. Wish I had you on speed dial back then; you might've been able to save the tragedy I served that night."

We all chuckle just before Carlisle reaches out his hands for us to hold as he blesses our food.

"Lord, we gather together today to say thank you. For the food you've placed here for the nourishment of our bodies, for a dear friend who's found her way to our table again after so many years, and for the chance you give us with each new day to just get this life right. Please bless the food we're about to partake in as well as the hands that've prepared it. In your name we pray."

We all respond with "Amen," and when I look up with watery eyes, Edward winks.

"This all looks delicious," I say, placing a knuckle at the corner of my eye to dab the tear that's escaped. "Woodchip chicken, your homemade mac and cheese, corn, cranberry sauce, and crescent rolls." I swallow to clear the emotion. "It's been more than twenty years since I've had this meal," I say with a regretful huff.

"I've made it many times over the years," Esme says, offering me the bowl of corn in front of her.

"And we always called it woodchip chicken," Carlisle jumps in. " _Bella's_ woodchip chicken—just like you dubbed it for us years ago. So you were here in spirit."

I glance at Edward, who's watching me, his hand casually resting at his mouth. Seconds later, while we exchange a sweet conversation of "Yes, you were never far from my mind" with our eyes, he adds to his dad's sentiment. "I'll do my very best to get her back to this table the next time you make it, Mom."

Another wink. Another promise.

I think we're getting there.

.

.

.

Back in the hotel room after Edward dropped me off with the promise of a bright and early start to our day tomorrow, my cell rings.

"Hey, Mom."

" _Well, hello there."_ Her cheerful voice never fails to make me smile. _"Sooooo, how did it go?"_ The knowing tone she uses hints at the upcoming inquisition.

I pull out my ponytail, having finished washing up for the night. "How'd what go?" Figure I can tease her for a few seconds.

" _Dinner tonight with the Cullens, of course!_ _They had your father and me on Skype with them for more than an hour last night. And why didn't I hear this from you first?"_

My father shouts from somewhere in the background. _"Renee, I still can't find the Pepcid!"_

I flop back on the bed, listening to their back and forth. _"It's in the medicine chest! You actually have to move things around, dear husband_." Mom sighs. _"Men."_

I giggle just as my dad chimes back in. _"I heard that . . . A-ha!"_

"Is Dad feeling okay?"

" _Eh,"_ she scoffs. _"He says my pasta sauce is repeating on him. He's been complaining of heartburn recently, I dunno. Pepcid'll take care of it."_

"Okay. If he's still dealing with it tomorrow, you should call the doctor. Never know what's going on." I fluff the pillows behind me. "Couldn't hurt."

" _Yeah, you're right."_ She hums and I can tell she's getting comfortable _. "So, tell me all the good stuff. I'm so excited you made this trip out there to see Edward. After everything you've dealt with this year . . ."_ Her voice trails off, and I know she's holding back the water works. _"I just think it's really good for you, honey. And from what Esme's shared over the years about his struggles, your visit is probably doing wonders for Edward, too."_

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

One hundred eight degrees. Yikes, looks to be another scorching day down here. At least where we're heading up north is predicted to be a good fifteen degrees cooler. I turn off the television minutes before Edward greets me with a big hug and an extra-large coffee to start our road trip. We agree, laughing at ourselves, that we might need to switch to iced coffee at the first stop. When I look in the cab and bed of his truck, I'm astounded that we're going to need so much camping gear, but he's the brains behind this operation, so I trust him.

My job was to pack my smaller overnight bag with items I couldn't live without for the next thirty-six hours.

Before we hit the road, I check out of the hotel. I can always come back and book more nights when we get back in town tomorrow night.

.

.

.

We've been sharing boxes of Entenmann's Glazed and Devil's Food Pop-Ems and drinking coffee the whole way, stopping every hour for a few minutes so the puppies can go to the bathroom and run around. We're in the home stretch, thank goodness. Should be there within the hour.

"I just can't believe the amount of Joshua trees. They actually do exist." The highway we're on right now is so picturesque. As far as the eye can see, there are hundreds of Joshua trees in every direction.

Edward shoots me a sexy grin and turns up the volume so we can enjoy the full experience. Nothing like Bono blaring from the radio, singing, "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For."

"It wasn't just the title of a U2 album, and now I have the proof," I add, snapping pictures as best as I can while we zoom down the road.

He veers over to the side. "Let's stop so you can get some decent pictures." We spend the next ten minutes taking shots of trees, the doggies, and a few self-portraits, too.

By the time we're at the last track of the album, Edward pulls up to the non-touristy area of the West Rim of the Grand Canyon.

There are two pink jeeps parked a few hundred feet from the edge of the cliff.

Edward nods his head in their direction. "They're part of a sightseeing company that runs out of Vegas. That's how I first saw this place, the famous Pink Jeep Tours. It's probably fewer than ten people."

"Cool." I unbuckle my seatbelt and gather the leashes for the dogs.

"Yeah, it's not a bad deal. They also do tours out to Lake Mead and Hoover Dam." He sighs, tapping his hands along the top of the steering wheel. "Ready?"

"Let's do it."

Edward ensures that the harnesses are securely around Lucy and Linus before we walk toward the Canyon's edge. Pausing about twenty feet from the cliff because I'm a little afraid of heights, I'm content to stay put for now. The view is phenomenal, but I don't need to be standing with my toes hanging over the edge. No thanks.

I can't even bring myself to start snapping pictures. It's stunning, just magnificent. The colors of the visible strata resemble a rainbow. From bright reds and yellows all the way to browns and purples. _Natural wonder of the world_ seems too insignificant a term.

The Colorado River cutting through the ravine is very dirty, but we overhear one of the tour guides telling their visitors that it's because recent storms churned up tons of sediment. There are many other points along the river where we'd be able to see the spectacular cerulean blue color of the water. Edward promises in a whisper that he'll take me there, too.

"Astounding, isn't it?" he asks, perching on a nearby boulder. "I've been here a few times when nobody else was around." His jaw tenses and he shakes his head. "Thinking about why things work out the way they do. Reminding myself that I'm one measly piece of an enormous puzzle, and my problems don't mean shit in the grand scheme of things."

I find a flat edge to the rock next to him and take a seat.

"It was after my first time here that I realized I needed to make some changes in my life. Not continue to wallow, worrying if the new meds I was taking would work for me. Or if the latest creams that came out would have me breaking out in hives or blow up like a tomato like others did." He picks up a rock and tosses it clear over the cliff where it plummets thousands of feet to its new resting place. "It was cathartic. I needed to wake up and start living without the constant disappointment hanging over me when things didn't go my way." Another rock flies over the edge. "My girlfriend had all but ended our relationship by enjoying her showgirl night life a little too much. Anyway, that's when I picked up and left Vegas for good. Crashed with my parents for a while and then got a place of my own,"—he shrugs—"went back to school . . . and the rest is history."

I swipe an unexpected tear that rolls down my cheek. "Your story is inspiring."

He scoffs, but I continue. "No, honestly, nobody can tell you what they would've done, because they didn't go through it, Edward. We're all on our own journeys, some are suckier than others," I say with a chuckle, and swipe my face again. "But you've done the best you can and made the strides you made when they were right for you. Nobody else's timetable should've ever mattered." Looking out on the Canyon again, I exhale a shuddery breath. "And here you are now. I think you're a rock star."

He smiles, readjusting his baseball cap. "Thank you." His voice is gravelly and he clears it just as a wide-eyed little girl approaches.

"Mommy, do you see the puppies? They're soooooo cute!"

Edward and I smile before he pushes himself off the rock to introduce the girl to Lucy and Linus.

"Hi, I'm Edward, what's your name?" He crouches down in front of her and oh my god, my ovaries break into the Macarena.

"Molly." She kneels down in front of him. "Are these your doggies?"

He scoops his arms around their bellies and sits them on his lap in front of Molly. "Yup, they're my babies. Do you want to pet them? Here." He settles both dogs and takes Molly's outstretched hand, rubbing it along their backs and up near their ears.

She giggles and squeals as they lick her with their hellos. It's too adorable.

"I don't have any puppy babies. We just have a human baby, Noah." She points behind her at her grinning mom. "Mommy's holding our baby."

Edward smiles in my direction. "This is my friend Bella."

"Hi, Molly," I chime in and scoot down to be next to them. "Aren't the puppies sweet?"

"Yeah." She pets them for a few more seconds and then turns to me again. "Do you have any puppy babies or human babies?"

Her question catches me so off guard, I'm silent for a few seconds. And my heart sinks. "No," I whisper. "I don't have any babies." I attempt a kind smile when my words trail off, but it's an act that I know Edward sees through instantly. "I'm gonna go get the cooler for us, okay?" I stand abruptly. "Bye, Molly." I call out, race-walking toward the truck.

"Bye, Bella!"

"Molly we should get going, honey. I think it's time for us to have our lunch, too."

Molly, her mom, and Edward say a few more things back and forth to each other, but I'm out of earshot to hear the details.

Tears pool and pour from my eyes within seconds of distancing myself from them. In all of its innocence, the little girl's question shattered me. Maybe because I'm already soaring with heightened emotions this week after reconnecting with Edward. Maybe because last night's dinner with the Cullens felt like a family reunion where I'd always belonged. Maybe it was Edward's confession a few minutes ago about how things turned around for him.

I wrench open the passenger door and hide behind it, weeping, feeling like a failure because I can't even hold it together to answer a stranger's simple question.

 _Babies_. A dream I'd always had that seems so far out of reach right now.

"Hey, are you all right?" Edward comes up, putting his hand on my back.

I'm still facing the inside of his truck. After taking a few deep breaths, I manage to croak out a "yeah."

Stepping aside, he ties the puppies' leashes to the bumper, putting out a bowl of water and dry food for each of them. I turn around and sit in the truck with the door still propped open and watch him take care of the dogs. When he's satisfied that they're occupied, he comes back over to where I'm sitting.

He turns his baseball cap backward and lifts his sunglasses to the top of his hat. Reaching for my hand, he grasps my fingers and pulls me off the seat so that we're facing each other. He's holding both of my hands in his. There's a roughness to them. Callouses, I'm sure, from all the car labor he performs. It's so manly and makes me fall for him more if that's even possible.

"Talk to me," he whispers. "Are you really all right?"

My traitorous lower lip quivers again, and I shake my head. "No. Her question just stunned me in that moment. And I think I'm extra emotional because of all that's happened this week."

Agreeing, he exhales deeply. "I totally get it. I've been all over the place, too." His jaw tenses, his stare never leaving mine. "What can I do?"

"I don't know," I whimper, feeling horribly embarrassed that I'm crying right now—about babies of all things—when we're supposed to be having an awesome road trip.

"C'mere," he pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me. And God, it's like a refuge I didn't know I needed. He's so warm, and it's not the temperature outside. It's his heart, the kindness and sincerity in every word he's ever spoken. Shame on me for ever doubting him or his character all those years ago.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but when I start to loosen my grip on his lower back he straightens up a bit and looks down at me again. Without words, he slips my sunglasses from my eyes and up onto my head, pushing some wisps of hair off my face.

Time seems frozen while our gazes are locked on each other. His fingers trail slowly down from behind my ears until his strong hands are cupping my face.

And then . . . Edward is kissing me. His lips gently brush across mine until my mouth opens slightly for him. His movements aren't fevered, he's not in a race to jam his tongue down my throat. We take our time. It's soft and sensual, maybe because we both know how far we've come and we deserve this moment to be cherished. The tip of his tongue barely dusts along mine just before our kiss deepens.

He sighs. I moan. And we're in heaven.

It's years of separation, years of defeat, and the elation in knowing we're together again after a lifetime apart. It's all wrapped up in this one, perfect kiss.

He reluctantly pulls his face back from mine and we share a quiet smile.

"Wow," I say softly. "It's been a long time since we had that very first peck of a kiss at No-man's land."

"Thirty years." He nods, his eyes studying mine while his thumbs sweep the remaining tear stains from my cheeks. "I love that you were my first kiss, Bella."

Swallowing tightly, I agree, "They say you never forget your first."

He's silent for a second but then adds, "Wouldn't it be great if we could make our first our last?"

My heart beats in triple time, but I don't get a chance to respond.

"Is it horrendously selfish of me to ask if you're ready to be with someone else already? Be with me?"

I gum my lips, excited and terrified, and still basking in the taste of him. _Can we do this? How will we make this work? Arizona? Grad school? Florida? Does this have any chance at all? Have we completely lost our minds?_

But in this moment, the thrill, the promise, the precipice of love we're standing on wins out over logic. So at the edge of the Grand Canyon, I whisper back to Edward, "I gave my heart away to a boy a long, long time ago. Maybe he just didn't know it." My fingers fist his shirt at his hips. "But if he's promising to make up for a lifetime of lost kisses, my only response is 'when can we start?'"

His answering smile rivals the brightness of the noon sun blazing over his shoulder. "Does now work?" he questions and leans back down to me, capturing my lips once again.

And finally it sinks in: I'm really kissing Edward Cullen.

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so, so much for your continued support. I truly appreciate you being here for this tale.**

 **Big love and thanks to my Team Cabana, as always: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. I think they were all just as happy that we finally got to "the kiss" as you are! Good things definitely come to those who wait, readers and characters alike! ;)**

 **Can't wait to hear what you all thought of this chapter. :) See you in two Fridays!**

 **xo, Jen**


	20. Chapter 20

**(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

 **EPOV**

I can't believe I finally kissed Bella Swan.

Right here, on the edge of the Grand fucking Canyon, Bella told me she wants me. I swear I can't stop beaming, but I know she's feeling the same. Every time I look over at her, she huffs a laugh, wearing a grin to match mine.

I think we're both in shock, to be honest.

We spend the next hour eating our picnic lunches, snapping pictures, playing with the puppies, and doing a very little bit of hiking. The dogs are too rambunctious, and we need to watch our footing even on flat land. Though they're still leashed and in their harnesses, it's not worth the risk to Bella and me to try going down into the Canyon.

"So, please don't think I'm a scaredy-cat or anything, but we don't need to stop at the Skywalk," she mentions casually, buckling her seatbelt.

I glance in her direction. The toothy grin I get in return charms me as always. "I never knew you were this afraid of heights."

"Meh," she sighs. "I mean, I'm not afraid of being up here, or climbing to the top of a tower or something, but I looked up the Skywalk on my phone last night. Saw pictures of it." She shudders. "I don't need to be hanging over _into_ the Canyon, like defying death or whatever. Did you ever see _The Lost World_?"

" _Jurassic Park_ sequel?" I tilt my visor to help with the glare. "'Course."

"That scene with the cracking glass spider-webbing underneath Julianne Moore's body? Yeah, no thanks."

I chuckle and grab her hand. She lets me.

I kiss it. She lets me.

And we exchange another smile.

"Is this okay?"

Her other thumb flies to her mouth and she nibbles on the nail, still looking happy. "It's weird."

Like I'm suddenly holding a bouquet of poison oak, I drop her hand, horrified. "Weird?"

Before I even finish my one-syllable word, she grabs my hand back, threading our fingers. "Exciting, unbelievably, incredibly _sensational_ -weird."

Jesus, the instant relief. "Oh, well in that case, c'mere." I give her a tug and she leans across the console, where we meet for a quick succession of kisses. We haven't turned onto the main road yet, so I'm not worried about any cars around us. Plus, she told me a little while ago I have a lifetime of lost kisses to make up for.

Figure I should get started as soon as possible.

When we both settle back in our seats, her hands cover her face and she giggles.

"What'd I miss now?" I chuckle, easing south onto Route 7.

"I'm sorry. I just feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience." She waves her hands between us. "You and me, doing this. It's a thousand little girl—and a few big girl—daydreams finally coming true." She sighs, sweeping some hair back behind her shoulders. "You'll have to give me a pass for at least a year or two."

"A year?" I shout, laughing. "Isabella . . . get over it. Get over _me_ or whatever this star-struck thing is. I'm just as much in awe of you too, you know. Of us. Finally getting our shit together and being here." I try really hard not to break into song, but it's simmering just beneath the surface. My happiness is off the charts right now.

"I know, I know, I'm teasing." She turns her head, watching the scenery out her window for a few seconds before she smacks her hand on her thigh. "But seriously, this is what it would've felt like if Luke Perry had accepted my invitation to our junior prom."

"Luke Perry?" My brows furrow. "I don't remember that name from school."

"He didn't go to school with us."

She's using her "duh" tone, so I roll my hand, waiting for more information.

"He was a TV star! Dylan from _Beverly Hills_ , _90210_. . . hello?" she jokes. "I sent him a picture right after Brady and I broke up because I knew I'd need a date to the JDD." Shrugging, she adds, "So I asked him."

The name and face click in my head. "Oh, my God," I sputter, knowing she's hilarious enough to have done just that. "You really asked that sideburns guy to the Junior Dinner Dance? _And?"_

Her face crinkles. "I'm still waiting to hear back."

This time I can't stop my laughter. "You're so fuckin' cute. That fool doesn't know what he missed." I glance her way, meeting her gaze. "But I do. Wish I'd had the nerve to say something all those years ago."

She sighs, tipping her head back. "Yeah, me too."

A silence settles around us, but it's not uncomfortable. I take heart in the warmth of her hand in mine.

"Maybe it just wasn't our time, though," she muses. "I mean, it sucks that we went through so much stuff on our own when we could've been together, but there's always a chance something else might've kept us apart at some point, too." Her tone is wistful. "This will help me cherish the ride from here on out more because of where we came from."

"If that's the way you want to look at it"—I nod thoughtfully, giving her soft hand a squeeze—"works for me. Only looking forward from now on."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

It's almost five by the time we get into Flagstaff. Tourists fill the landscape, meandering in and out of shops and cafes. There are dozens of great places to choose from, and I drive around the city a bit to show Bella the downtown area, but dinner tonight is definitely out on Route 66 at Salsa Brava. Ever since she agreed to come up this way to do the Grand Canyon tour, I've been thinking about taking her there.

.

.

.

I get back to the table after a quick bathroom run, and the waiter is poised to take our order.

"Pork sopapilla, please."

My mouth falls open as I sit, hearing Bella's choice.

"What?" she questions, making a face while the waiter asks me what I want.

"You're gonna be eating for days, I hope you know. That sucker is bigger than your head."

The waiter chuckles at my candid response. "Uhh, Navajo tacos, pork please. Extra rice instead of the side of beans." I take the menu Bella passes me and hand them both over. "Trust me?" I question my girlfriend. _Girlfriend._ Cue stomach flip.

"Absolutely."

"Two pomegranate 'Ritas, too."

"Very good. Be right out with your drinks."

My eyebrows waggle. "They're awesome. Embry and I had a little too much fun with them a few years ago." The image of my brother, flat on his back in the middle of some side street comes to mind.

"Oh yeah? Get into trouble with them, didja?"

I poke my thumb to my chest. "I held it together well enough. All-American soccer star, Embry Cullen, however, was another story altogether. Before he retired, he used to be really strict about what he ate and drank in the off-season, so he was a total lightweight. We went back to our hotel room to change at one point, and he ended up passing out on the toilet. Totally blew our night on the town."

"Silly boys." She laughs, shaking her head. "So, what are the plans for us after dinner?"

Folding my hands on the table, I lean forward. "We'll head south toward Sedona and pull over to a campground somewhere along the freeway. There are a ton to choose from, all spread throughout the Oak Creek Canyon region."

"Oh, so it's not an established campground? We don't have to pay or anything?"

"I mean, we could find one of those, but some campgrounds have a no pet policy." We both sit back as the waiter puts down our waters and a basket of chips. "And since we didn't bring anything electric that we have to plug in, I figured it would be more fun if it were just the two of us . . . well, and the dogs."

There's a blush to her cheeks when she smiles. "Sure. Sounds good to me."

"It shouldn't take too long to get us settled for the night and pitch the tent." The end of my sentence hangs in the air. I shake my head and groan, two milliseconds too late to take back my outrageous double entendre.

Bella jolts forward, trying to catch the water now dribbling from her lips. Moments later, she's leaning back, fanning herself between coughs and laughter.

"Oh my . . ." she breathes and cackles and breathes some more. "Oh, my God."

May as well enjoy the joke. With my lips pursed, I nod. "Yeah, I can pretty much guarantee that tents will be pitched tonight with very little effort."

She sighs loudly, only adding to the absurdity with a wink. "And I haven't even busted out any of my best moves yet."

"Check, please!"

I crane my neck. The server stops short at our table, confused and ready to deliver our margaritas. By now, Bella and I are in hysterics.

"Sorry"—I wave my arm, trying to get a hold of myself—"don't mind us."

He places our drinks down while Bella and I ignore the odd looks from the other patrons. I could stare at her for hours, listening to nothing but sweet laughter and faint sighs from this girl.

And I wonder if maybe this has been the best day of my life.

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

"Well, this is like a castle," Bella admires our sleeping arrangements, bringing the blankets and pillows from the back seat of my truck. "Two rooms. I've heard of tents like these but have never seen one."

I kick off my shoes and head over to set up the blanket and crate for the dogs in the front section of the tent. We have less than an hour left of daylight. "Yeah, I don't normally use the separator, but with you and I—" I trail off, trying to swallow past the boulder now lodged in my throat. "I wasn't sure what you wanted the setup to be like tonight."

I see her sneakers land in the opposite corner of the tent while I'm still bent over the dogs' bedding. When I straighten, she sidles up next to me.

Her fingers wrap around mine and I turn to face her, trying to read the thoughtful expression on her face.

"Temperature's falling already up here in the mountains"—her voice is a murmur—"I think I'd like to sleep next to my boyfriend tonight . . . help each other stay warm."

"Is it weird that I'm thirty-seven years old, and you have to call me your boyfriend?"

"Would you prefer man-friend?"

The silly face she makes must match mine because she huffs and looks to the side, biting her lip.

"I guess we can stick with boyfriend," I answer, my gaze fixated on the mesmerizing eyes staring back at me. "For now."

And then I kiss her. It's slow and deep and wet and a promise of exhilarating things to come, but I'm not ready to end this moment and rush the other stuff.

So I keep kissing her. Because I have to. Because I want to . . . and because I can, finally, after all these years, just fucking kiss the hell out of my girlfriend, Bella Swan.

.

.

.

"Are Lucy and Linus okay?" Bella asks while I kick off my shoes for what'll hopefully be the final time tonight.

"Yeah, they're good. No more bathroom breaks till morning for those two. They're cuddled up in the crate with their blankets." I debate on whether or not to keep my fleece jacket on, but then decide to toss it down at the bottom of our bedding. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah, completely. It's nice and toasty under the covers," she says, only the slightest tremor in her voice. "You must be chilly in just that t-shirt and sweats, though. Come get warm with me."

I do my best to ignore the instinct to do a Superfly Snuka-style-a-la-World-Wrestling-Federation-leap on top of her. I mean, she _is_ my girlfriend. She's no longer a friend in the no-fly zone. We can do whatever the hell we want. Bella's asking me to get in bed with her, get warm with her . . . the methods for satisfying that request alone are innumerable.

Once I tuck myself under the layered comforters, I stare in her direction. It's a clear night with the moon casting its shadows through the thousands of trees that surround us. The faint light outside barely allows me to see her face, but it's enough.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hey." I bite the inside of my cheek in a desperate attempt to overcome the prom-night anxiety that's coursing through my body. Fuck it. I reach my arm over and settle my hand on her slender waist, pulling us several inches closer to each other. "Better?"

"Mhmm," she hums and weaves her hand around my upper arm, resting it on my shoulder. "I was thinking about something yesterday."

"Oh yeah?"

"I remembered that we used to have sleepovers a lot when we were kids. Spending the night in the tent in your basement. Remember?"

Nodding, I answer, "I do. I even recall one morning I woke up and your hand was on top of my palm. Like we were holding hands."

"No way."

"I wouldn't lie. I still remember smiling at it, at you, hoping you wouldn't stir and inadvertently move."

She awws. "How old were we?"

"I don't know, nine? Ten? Whenever it was, it stuck with me." I hum a bit when she moves her legs so that we're touching down there, too.

Her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. "Did you ever think about calling me during college? Like, when things were still okay with you?" She clears her throat. "Before the alopecia started?"

"Regretfully, no. It wasn't easy trying to put you out of my head all those years earlier. And not knowing if you were still with Ross after we graduated . . ." I trail off, shaking my head. "I figured it was better to let you go altogether. I berated myself enough knowing I was the moron who shoved you into Corning's arms."

"God, I remember that." She clicks her tongue. "You know I hated you for saying all those sweet things, while you acted like we were better off as friends. It felt like a mind game, but I know you didn't mean it that way."

"Bella, if I'd ever known you still had any kind of feelings for me, I would've made you mine that day on the football field. I swear I just tried to keep it casual because I wasn't up for getting shot down again, knowing—

"AH!"

She cuts me off before I can amend my statement. " _Thinking_ you didn't want to be my close friend anymore. But I was a sucker," I confess with a chuckle. "I still kept you on a shelf in my heart. Still stayed to watch your hockey games when I could. Still bought tickets to watch you in the school shows."

Growling, she buries her face toward my chest before talking again. "Friggin' vortex of teenage angst and miscommunication . . . fuck, that sucks."

"Hey"—I pinch her side gently—"thought you said earlier we were only looking forward."

Her fingers press into my shoulder. "You're right, my fault." She moves her face so close to mine, her breath is tickling my lips. "Forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive." I inch toward her, picking my head up off the pillow and pulling her bottom lip between mine.

Several gentle brushes and tugs lead me to deepen the kiss, lost in the feeling of our bodies pressed up against each other, learning what we missed out on for so many years.

I lean over her while she dances her fingers from the base of my neck down to my lower back and up again. Her other hand comes up to cup my face, and I'm in fucking heaven. Her lips are pillowy soft.

Tender kisses evolve into harder ones until she's spreading her clothed legs, hitching one of them around the back of my knee. Her hands are gripping my shoulders one minute and my ass the next. I don't complain and allow myself to do some exploring of my own.

"Touch me, Edward." Her raspy voice against my ear is all the invitation I need. My fingers massage their way down to the bottom of her t-shirt, finding the warm skin of her stomach.

I reluctantly pull away from her kiss to worship the same body that had me running off to a cold shower yesterday. My mouth trails licks and open-mouthed kisses over her belly button, delighting in her soft sighs. I can't stop my half-smile when I feel her shudder, her skin goose-bumping under my touch.

As I push her shirt up toward her neck, my fingers delicately dust across her pert nipple and she whimpers, reaching for my chin and jaw to meet her for the kiss she's demanding.

Her tongue slides against mine before she readjusts under me again. Centered, primed . . . so fucking ready after all these years.

"Jesus, Bella," I moan when she nibbles on my ear. I bury my face in her neck and can't help the need to grind my pelvis into hers; she meets my thrusts without hesitation. Screw the pomegranate margaritas, this is what's intoxicating. What had been cool air surrounding us in the tent is now stifling in the best way.

Bella. I can't believe this is happening with Bella. My mind is everywhere, elated, thinking back on how many times I imagined what it would've been like with her.

And now I know.

When one of her whimpers evolves into a quiet squeak, I trail my mouth across her neck then back to her lips. "I want you so goddamn much right now . . ."

"Yesss," she gasps, tilting her head to the side, her arms clutching at me. She pulls me closer, bucking her hips against mine. "I love feeling you on me." Her words come out in a moan. "I only had my wildest fantasies to go on, but, ahhhh, now—"

 _Wild._ It's the perfect word for how I'm feeling right now. How long it's been for either of us is one story, but for us to finally be together?

Un-fucking-real.

I pull her top lip between my teeth just as her fingers slip beneath the waistband of my boxers. My hand shoots down her side, and I reach for a handful of her luscious ass, rolling our bodies over so she's lined up on top of me. When she straightens up and straddles me, she tears her long-sleeved shirt off in a whirlwind. My breathing stops for a second, and I sit up to meet her because I need her mouth again.

My hands cup her jaw for several seconds before my fingers to trail down to cup her breasts. Our shared breaths and moans are all we hear until shrieking laughter and cursing outside our tent causes us to freeze.

Bella covers her chest in an instant while my arms wrap around her. Both of us whip our heads to the side, chests heaving, coming down from our hot and heavy moments that ended so abruptly a second ago.

What sounds like drunken people stumbling past our campsite quiets down when one of them must spot my truck and the tent beyond it.

Grasping Bella around her upper arms, I move her off me, needing to investigate. I stand and step over to the other side of the tent, noticing that the dogs are roused but not alarmed. Unable to move from the doorway, I remain still until the voices fade into the background, and the night creatures resume their songs again.

A couple of minutes later, I lay back down, gathering a now shirt-covered Bella into my arms. "Well, that was a helluva cockblock."

"They scared the hell out of me. I thought we were about to end up in a slasher film."

I chuckle, nuzzling my nose through her hair. "I wouldn't have let that happen." I shift my hips to turn toward her and she gently kisses the corner of my lips. My mouth is like a magnet to hers, so it leads to another peck, and another . . . and another soft one before she tucks her head into the nook under my shoulder. I clear my throat before murmuring, "Sounds like they walked away, but I suppose they could always come back around this way again."

Bella whines a little, which makes me smile. "I don't mind if we put this on hold until another time." She traces the collar of my t-shirt. "I'm not necessarily feeling my sexiest anyway. I haven't showered for the last, like, fifteen hours," she says with a snort.

I squeeze her again. "I don't care about that. You and me, finally? There's not too much that could keep me away from you now. But this isn't the most comfortable place either, only a few blankets separating us from the damn soil." Propping myself up on my elbow, I add, "We deserve, _you_ deserve way better than this for our first time."

She dusts her lips along mine again. "It's probably better this way. Now you'll be able to concentrate and protect me from the bear I'm pretty sure is outside."

I laugh, pulling her back into my chest. "Bear?"

She nods, her fingers scraping across my abs and down toward my waist. I have to grab her hand before she dips too low, reigniting the fire, and I lose all chivalry. My feisty girl giggles, knowing I'm on to her.

"I swear I heard a growl."

I press my lips to her forehead. "Sure that wasn't me you heard growling?"

Her face tips up to mine, and I can make out her smile. "Might've been."

"If anything approaches us—drunken hillbilly or otherwise—I'm sure the dogs will go ape-shit. Nothing to worry about." I readjust myself under the covers, my back still feeling tweaked from work earlier in the week. "You sure you're comfortable?"

She tightens her arm across me. "Perfectly. Best, sexiest pillow in the world right here. It's a limited edition Edward Cullen, you know."

I snort, kissing her head once more. "Very limited and it's all yours." When I hear her quiet squeal, I just roll my eyes. "Goodnight, whacko."

"Okay, you have to at _least_ give me today," she reasons and pecks me again. "Goodnight, you."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 **BPOV**

With the puppies set up safely in the cab, Edward grabs my hand and we walk up the steep driveway to the Chapel of the Holy Cross. This phenomenal structure, built into the mountains of Sedona, astounds me. I'm in awe of its beauty, wondering how someone ever had the idea to construct such a place.

"It's stunning," I whisper, not wanting to disturb the older couple praying in the pew up front. "Do they actually have mass up here?"

"No. Just a weekly prayer service, I think. It's really more of a museum and gift shop."

I drop his hand with a smile and move forward down the side aisle to light a candle. _Bummer,_ I think to myself. This sanctuary, in all its majesty, is the closest thing to heaven. Talk about a gorgeous wedding venue. Not that I'm thinking about weddings. I mean, who can think of weddings when your feet haven't touched the ground yet after your dream guy says he wants to be in a relationship with you? Not me, that's for sure. I smile again, still in disbelief that my week has really turned out this way.

After snapping a few more pictures of the enormous glass window and cross that encase the front of the chapel, I make my way toward the back of the church. Edward lingers at the door, keeping one eye on the truck down in the parking lot.

He follows me into the gift shop where I find a mounted 5x7 picture of the Chapel at sunset. I could never take a picture so perfect, so it's a no-brainer to pick it up as a memento. When I turn to see the Christmas tree ornaments, I get excited.

"I collect them everywhere I travel." My happy thoughts turn sour for a minute, realizing I need to trash every ornament I ever picked up while vacationing with Tyler. Ugh, that kind of rots. "My tree is going to be pretty bare this year," I say quietly when we head toward the register. "Time to start a new collection, I guess."

"Maybe we can pool our ornaments to make it better than ever?" he suggests with a wink.

Ummm, yes, please.

We hold hands again, walking back down the hill. I can't get over how natural it feels, but I'm still so giddy. It's such a cornucopia of emotions. I'm finding it difficult to wrap my brain around everything I'm experiencing.

But it feels good. Everything feels perfect.

.

.

.

Back in the car after our day of sightseeing in Sedona, I tilt my head toward him, loving how much we've covered about our years apart. "So, finish your story about the treatment you tried after college."

"Oh." He shrugs, readjusting his mirror. "This one dermatologist I worked with out in Pittsburgh gave me steroid injections in my scalp."

I close my eyes and cringe, my gut twisting at the thought of all he endured.

"Yeah, they sucked. Needles right in the damn head. I'd bleed . . . bruise." He shudders. "If I wanted it to work, I had to do it every month for years. They worked for a while, and then they just stopped. Like I said yesterday, I tried creams and meds and all sorts of shit. Even did more injections out here in Vegas . . . but then I just gave up."

"I can't imagine the pain . . . physical and otherwise."

He nods, threading our fingers together again. "It is what it is. I'm better off now not constantly fearing if the treatments will work or not."

"Does your hair ever grow back?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, it does actually, but I stay on top of it, cutting it off before it grows beyond stubble. I just don't want to get back into a cycle"—his ringing cell interrupts him—"of like, hoping it'll stay this time. It's too much of a mind game; know what I mean?" He glances over and I nod. "Hang on a sec," he whispers to me and takes the call. "Hello?"

While Edward talks to whoever's on the phone, I peek in the back seat to check on the dogs. They're curled up together in their crate and sleeping again. Rough life they lead.

"Yeah, it's cool. We'll make it work . . . 'kay, see ya." Looking aggravated, he tosses his phone back into the center console. "I have to go into work in the morning. One of the guys sprained his ankle rock climbing, and there are two major jobs on the books for tomorrow."

"Oh, that's no problem." I wave my hand. "I can entertain myself."

"Yeah, but I feel bad. I already had a mandatory meeting scheduled with my clinical advisor. We're going over the plan for my final semester." He shakes his head, tensing his jaw. "Harry says he has a call into one of the guys who works at his other garage in Phoenix, but Shane can't make it over till Monday or Tuesday, and Seth can't handle the bigger jobs on his own since he's still new."

"Do you have to work Sunday, too?"

He shakes his head. "No, just the two jobs I'll fit in around my meeting tomorrow, and then Sunday is mine. I'll head in again on Monday until Shane gets in, and then Harry said I can take off." He curses again under his breath. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's totally fine. After all the driving and walking we've done, I'm more than happy to relax. I hate that you'll be up and running, though."

"Eh, work doesn't bother me, and I'm looking forward to meeting with my advisor. I just hate missing out on time with you." He's quiet for a few seconds. "Can I ask you a favor, though?"

He's so damn swoony. "Anything."

"Will you stay with me and skip the hotel this time around?" He flashes me that crooked grin and I'm a goner. Like I would've said no anyway, crazy boy. "It'll make my work day go by a lot quicker if I know you're home waiting for me."

"I'll stay," I confirm softly. "Keep Lucy and Linus busy, splash around in your pool. I need to do a load of laundry too, if that's okay . . . I could even get dinner going for us." It actually gets me a little excited.

He squeezes my hand. "Well, I'm not asking for a housekeeper, but you sure are gonna make it hard for me to ever let you leave."

I'm content to settle back in my seat even though my stomach aches a little at the thought of leaving him, too. That's a topic we haven't touched at all.

I got a phone call while we were out of range yesterday from a doctor's office in Panama City; they want me to come and interview for a position as their Director of Social Services. And an email came through a little while ago from a nursing home in Laguna Beach, Florida that needs a home care coordinator. Things have started to jump off in the Sunshine State while I'm out here chasing dreams.

Edward's still got his final semester of clinical rotations to finish, and he's clearly committed to working for Harry at the garage to make ends meet. I sigh, staring out the window, not quite ready to delve into heavy talks about our future. Hello? We just started dating yesterday. We need a minute or two to process.

I take a page from Scarlett O'Hara and figure we'll think about it tomorrow.

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

After my shower, I head downstairs to meet Edward in the family room. The plan is to just veg out and watch some television until exhaustion takes over.

I find him leaning back on the kitchen counter, waiting for a bag of microwave popcorn to finish cooking. He looks comfy in his black t-shirt and gray sweats, and the way his hands are propped behind him shows off his defined arm muscles.

It's almost unfair how hot he is. Unfair for others . . . completely fair for me, in my humble opinion. I contain my squeal and just imagine I'm fist-bumping my sixteen-year-old self instead.

Eat your heart out, Dorie Chester.

"Hey," he says, pushing off the counter and leaning across the island where I meet him for a quick kiss. Because I can't stop. I seriously can't stop kissing him. "Good shower?"

"Yes," I groan. "Glorious. And now I'm all set to watch our marathon of _Big Bang Theory_."

He winks and knocks on the counter before straightening up again. "Popcorn'll be ready in a minute. Oh, and your phone just sounded with all sorts of bells and whistles."

"Okie dokie." I go over to the end table where I stashed my purse and pull out my cell, seeing I missed a text from my mother and a call from Jasper. Just as I get comfortable on the couch and return my brother's call, Edward's phone rings, too.

My brother answers. " _Bells—"_

"Hey! How's it going?" My eyes follow Edward while he grabs his cell and answers quietly.

" _I tried you a few minutes ago. I hate to do this to you, but Mom just called. Dad collapsed in the driveway,"_ his words rush out.

"What?" I shoot out off the couch, my hand clutching at my neck. "When? How?"

 _"Finishing yard work, I guess. Mom said the EMTs just arrived. Apparently a neighbor from around the corner was walking his dog. He ran over, helped Mom do CPR until the ambulance got there."_ Jasper's voice wavers and my stomach rolls. _"I c—can't get a flight out tonight. There's nothing leaving Tallahassee, and I wouldn't make it to Atlanta in time if I tried, so I'm getting in the car right now. I'll be in Jersey by noon."_

Edward ends his call and comes over to me, wrapping his arm around my back. He must know.

"Where's Dad now? I mean, I mean where's he going?"

" _Mom said Memorial in Burlington."_ I hear my brother gasp, probably choking back inevitable tears. _"Bells, she's a mess. We don't know anything."_

I look to Edward, tears filling my eyes and nod, hearing Jasper's desperation.

"M'kay. I'll—I'll figure something out."

"They have red-eyes all the time," Edward whispers. "We'll get you home."

I sputter a coughing sob and tip my head into his chest. "I'm on my way, Jazz. I'll call you when I get a flight."

" _Okay. Talk to you soon."_

"Jasper, _please_ drive safely."

" _I will. Alice is coming with me. If I get tired we can switch off. This was her vacation week."_ He scoffs and sniffles. _"Some vacation."_

"Okay. Be safe. I'll get in touch with you as soon as I get my flight info."

Once I end the call, Edward turns me and wraps me into his embrace. Tears spill down my cheeks, but I don't even have time for this.

"I'm so sorry," he starts. "Embry called. When Jasper couldn't find you at first, he called Em to track me down."

I shake my head, backing up from the hug. "I have no idea how bad it is. I have to go. I apologize."

Edward blanches. "Bella, are you kidding? It's your dad." He cups my cheeks, swiping the tears away like he's always done. "Of course you're going. Can I come with you?"

"I can't ask you to do that." I sniffle and grab a napkin from his counter. "I don't even know what I'm walking in on."

"Let me be there for you." He rubs his hands up and down my arms.

"But your job—"

"Don't worry about my job; Harry'll understand." His eyes pinch shut. "Fuck! My clinical meeting . . . dammit." He steps back, running his hand down his face. "Let me try to call my advisor."

"Edward, it's almost seven o'clock on a Friday night. Your advisor's not still at the rehab seeing patients right now." I fist his shirt. "You have to stay and meet with her. This is the future you worked so friggin' hard for. Let me go home to New Jersey, and I'll let you know what's happening." I swallow tightly, praying I don't call him with funeral arrangements. "It makes more sense this way. Please, for me, go to your meeting."

.

.

.

Less than two hours later, I purchase a ticket from American Airlines for a red-eye that will take me into Philly by six tomorrow morning. Edward has been so wonderful. He won't leave my side until I have to go through security, and we've already been sitting here in Starbucks for an hour.

He called his parents before we left the house, and they told me to call them at any hour with updates. It only made me cry harder.

How can this be happening? What felt like the best week of my life has fallen apart in a few short hours. All I can do is pray on a loop that my father will be all right.

The good news is that he's at least stable for now at the hospital, but the doctors still have several tests they need to run. I've spoken to my mother twice. My aunt and cousin are with her, and Dad's even been awake and talking a bit.

Even so . . . my stomach is sick, for so many reasons.

The alarm sounds on my phone, alerting me that I'll be boarding in about twenty minutes.

"You need to go," Edward's voice is gruff, taking my hand and leading me from our table toward security.

"Saying this out loud makes me hate myself"—I shake my head, my eyes closing—"but I need you to know that I don't want to leave you."

He smiles sadly, pushing some hair behind my shoulders. "I know. I don't want you to go either, but you have to make sure your dad's going to be okay. I'm just glad he's stable now."

I nod. "Me too." I lean forward and we hug, tighter than we've ever held each other before. It gets me choked up all over again. "Thank you for this week. For everything." My voice is muffled against his chest, but he hears me.

"Thank _you_. You'll never know how much you being out here has meant to me." He presses his warm lips my forehead and then leans down and we kiss. It's soft and slow, and we end it far too soon. "Call me when you land, okay? Hell, call me when you board."

I smile and back away. "Cuddle Lucy and Linus for me. Tell your parents again I'm sorry I couldn't come back and say goodbye."

"They understand." He nods, reassurance and strength in his sincere eyes. "Go be with your family. It's gonna be okay, Bella."

"I'll talk to you soon," I say through a shuddery breath and touch my fingers to my lips before turning around.

"Soon," I whisper to myself again, looking back once more, saddened that I'm leaving my future behind me . . . hopefully just for now.

* * *

 **A/N: So . . . the vacation came to a screeching halt. We'll see about getting them back together ASAP. Have faith.**

 **Loads of thanks to my team and to all my faithful readers and reviewers. I love hearing from you, knowing you're still with me. When you don't get feedback, it's very similar to taping the mic, having "Is this thing on?" moments. I truly appreciate you relaying your thoughts and feelings.**

 **Thanks again for being here. See you soon.**

 **xo, Jen**


	21. Chapter 21

**(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

 **BPOV**

Airports at the crack of dawn are unnaturally creepy. I'm one zombie away from starring in the season two premiere of _The Walking Dead._

I dig my phone out of my purse to call Edward, rolling my eyes at the moving sidewalk which isn't even moving. Helpful.

" _Hey,"_ he sighs, his groggy morning voice soothing my exhausted and panicked heart. _"You're on the ground?"_

"Yeah, booking over to the rental car kiosks. Whichever desk is open at this ungodly hour is the one that's getting my money."

" _Any word from Jasper?"_

"He left a message around four my time, saying he and Alice made it past Columbia, South Carolina." I pass the Dunkin Donut's storefront and my stomach rumbles. God, those bagels and coffee smell divine.

" _Okay, any more from your mom?"_

"No. I'm hoping that no news is good news."

" _Good thinking. I'm sure if something had changed she would've at least contacted your brother."_

I follow the arrows that lead toward the rental car stations. Spotting a woman behind the Avis counter, I head her way. "Okay, you get back to sleep. I'm sorry I'm waking you less than an hour before you would've gotten up. I should've waited to call."

" _Stop. And I didn't even bother with my bed; crashed on the couch. Couldn't sleep anyway, worried about you, your dad . . ."_ he trails off.

"Thank you." My eyes fill with tears. "I'll uhhh—I'll call you later today with an update, okay?"

" _Okay."_

I'm not ready to hang up with him. "Edward, I—"

" _I miss you."_ He gets to it before I swallow back the tears impeding my words.

My nod follows my sad smile. "I miss you, too."

.

.

.

By the time I get a rental car and drive over to the hospital in Jersey, breakfast is being delivered to patients on the same floor as my father. I peek in, finding my mom asleep in the armchair next to my dad in his bed; he's also knocked out.

I walk slowly into the room, studying both of them. There are wires everywhere. Machines hiss and bleep, telling the current physiological condition of Dad's life. I refuse to believe that this is the conclusion of his story, though. A chapter, maybe, but these machines can only transcribe so much. If there were a device that could measure emotions, the love one feels for others and what's received in return, well, I suppose those numbers would be off the charts for my father. For my whole family, really. The relationship I've been privileged to witness between my parents for the last thirty-six years is more of a lesson in love than any computer could document.

Charles and Renee Swan are each other's partner in every sense of the word. For as long as I can remember, they never shied away from showing each other affection, even when my brother and I were around. As teenagers we'd tell them we were skeeved out by their lovey-dovey ways; they didn't pay us any mind, though.

I suppose some parents tend to keep outward displays of love and intimacy to themselves, especially in front of their kids. Not my parents. Mine always held hands, gave each other kisses and hugs, held each other after a long day, and it never mattered who was around. "How do you think you got here?" Dad would tease. "There's gotta be something more there, you two. It's wonderful to have children, but kids grow up and leave, you know?" I can hear my father's voice perfectly from all those years ago. "Your husband or your wife is there with you after everyone else is gone. In sickness and in health, they're the ones by your side no matter what happens . . . remember that." He'd wag his finger at us. "You have to have something more in common than just your children. Find someone who you want next to you to celebrate the good times with, but who will do their best to hold your hand during the sad and scary stuff, too. You can't help what happens in life . . . finding the right partner to take that journey with is one of the only things you _can_ control, so make it count."

I wipe the tear trailing down my cheek and quietly thank the nurse for delivering a fresh pitcher of water and cups for my parents. I don't want to wake either of them. Lord knows how much sleep they got between tests and hospital staff parading in and out, to say nothing of their anxiety levels since yesterday's turmoil.

I sit at the foot of the unoccupied hospital bed and text Jasper that I arrived. Just as I hit send, there's a knock on the door.

"Good morning, folks."

My mother's eyes flutter and she sits up straight, turning toward the voice but then leaping up once she realizes I'm in the room as well.

"Good morning . . . oh, Bella!" She rushes over and grips me tightly. "Thank God you're here." When she pulls back her eyes are glassy like mine. "Sweetie, this is Dr. Brennan, the cardiologist."

"Liam Brennan, nice to meet you." The doctor looks like Prince Harry's doppelganger; the only thing missing is the accent.

"You too." After shaking his hand, I move toward the head of my dad's bed. "Hey, Daddy," I whisper, tightening my hand around his fingers. His responding exhausted smile is enough for now.

"How're you feeling, sir?" Dr. Brennan directs toward Dad. "Looks like you had a good night."

My father nods while my mother wrings her hands, looking like she's studying every breath my dad takes and ready to hang onto every word his doctor speaks.

"So, though I'm pleased with the results from last night's thrombolysis, the angiogram tells a more precarious story. I'd recommend we go ahead with the bypass surgery today. There's significant narrowing of your left coronary artery, which puts you at a major risk for future heart attacks."

My stomach coils as my mother whimpers.

"I see two major blockages at this point, but once we get in there, I'll make the final decision on how many grafts we'll need to do."

"Isn't that a little aggressive?" Mom questions, her cheeks flushed.

He leans back against the wardrobe. His thoughtful look settles my nerves that he's not a "cut first, look into other options later" type of doctor. "Well, in this case I'd consider it proactive. At sixty-two, you're still on the younger side, and you don't have any other serious medical conditions that would add extra complications or risks."

My phone buzzes in my back pocket; I glance at the screen and see it's my brother.

"Jazz, hang on, the cardiologist is talking to us right now about Dad needing a bypass. I'll put you on speaker."

" _Okay."_

Dr. Brennan politely smiles and continues. "I'm concerned that with the occlusions I can see so far and the prolonged angina you've been experiencing, placing a stent would only be a Band-Aid. In the long run, the bypass will be more effective and decrease the chances that this'll happen again. Quality of life greatly increased in other patients after recovery. I believe it's an optimal solution, sir."

I focus on Dad, his Chief-of-Police face in full effect. He listens, absorbs, and turns to us. "Well, let's do it, Doc." He nods at my mother, encouraging her to cease with the pending inquisition, knowing she's ready to prolong this Q&A session 'til we're all old and gray. "See these pretty ladies over here? I've got a lot to live for."

" _Hey, what about me?"_ Jasper shouts.

"Yeah, you're pretty too, kid."

While all of us chuckle, I shake my head. Dad perfected droll eons ago. Though I don't love the thought of him undergoing more cardiac procedures, I know it's the smartest choice. I'm sure Mom's feeling the same way; her face is paler than my legs in January. If we could change the situation, we would. But the course of action the doctor is recommending will have the safest outcome for Dad over time.

"So how long will that operation take?" Mom asks with a tremble to her voice.

"All in all, it should be between three and four hours. I have an excellent team working by my side. We'll be able to keep you updated throughout."

"You'll harvest veins from his leg, I assume?"

"Exactly." The doctor seems taken aback with me, almost impressed. "Do you have medical training?"

"I'm a social worker, but I did my grad student training at an acute care facility, setting up step-down facilities for my patients, many of them recovering from heart attacks and strokes, so I'm familiar with many of the procedures."

"Excellent. Sounds like you've got a live-in interpreter here, Mr. and Mrs. Swan. You're in good hands." Before he steps out of the room, Dr. Brennan grins, giving me a wink.

If this had been a week ago, I might've flirted right back, but instead I just reciprocate a kind smile, knowing I left my heart in Arizona.

 _A week._

I can't believe it's only been one week since I was in Florida and on the boat with Embry, learning a few details about Edward. The following six days became a whirlwind of highs and lows, taking me on a journey I only ever dreamed could happen. Edward and I came so far and then it all came to a screeching halt.

"Why the grimace, Bella?"

My mom's words snap me out of my pity party. "Nothing. Just glad that we have a plan for now." I turn to my father. "You're going to feel so much better, Dad, honestly. I remember patients I worked with saying the relief was almost instantaneous."

"So much for the Pepcid doing the trick," Mom scoffs. "I should've listened to you, sweetie. Meanwhile I let this one"—she jerks her head toward Dad— "talk me out of it and now here we all are."

"Sorry your trip to visit Edward got cut short, honey," Dad whispers. "Piss poor timing on my part."

I snort and push some of his hair off his forehead. "Yeah, if you could give me at least a thirty-day advance warning of any future medical emergencies, that would really help out."

" _Uh, yeah, let's get that paperwork in triplicate_ ," Jazz chimes in.

Dad makes a silly face at me, and I make one right back. Mom just clicks her tongue at our antics. We're trying to keep it light. I'm sure she knows that, but nerves are raw right now. I get it.

Grabbing my cell from the tray table, Mom switches gears. "How far away are you, Jasper?"

" _We're almost in Richmond, Mom. Still looking at another five hours."_

"Don't go nuts, kid," Dad says. "Just get you and Alice here in one piece."

" _Yes, sir."_ Jasper's simple response is laced in fear. I hate hearing that in my brother's voice.

"Okay, Mr. Swan," Dr. Brennan interrupts, reentering the room. "We've got some paperwork for you to fill out and then my team'll begin prepping you for surgery." He then turns to my mother and me. "I'll have my nurse come out and talk to you after we complete each phase of the procedure. You can follow your husband to the surgical waiting room when we're ready to go."

Dad nods. "Renee, may I talk to Jasper?"

Mom passes Dad the phone and excuses herself to use the restroom. I leave his bedside to allow him some privacy to talk to my brother. The window in his room doesn't offer much of a view, just the roof of the medical building attached to this one. My vision blurs as my mind wanders.

God, how did we get here? We have answers and a course of action but I'm stricken with anxiety nonetheless. It's still open heart surgery and it's still my father. I can't fathom losing him.

He's Dad, our rock . . . the support beam we need in order for our house to remain standing. He's got to make it through this. There's just no other way.

Over the next fifteen minutes, we watch the medical team ready Dad for transport, moving machines, wires, and tubes this way and that. It all seems so robotic and unfeeling. But they're doing their job. It's impeccably choreographed, a well-oiled machine. I bet they've done it a thousand times.

But this time it's Dad. Don't they know how important this man is to us? Would it ensure his future better if they went slower? Asked more questions? Triple checked their actions?

I don't know. My thoughts are scattered; even I know I'm not making much sense, thinking in circles. This is too surreal and I hate it.

With three sets of glassy eyes among us, several kisses, tight hand-holds, and silent prayers later, we all exchange "see you laters." It's more palatable than a goodbye. Goodbye isn't an option. Not this day.

Mom and I follow the team up to the waiting room to sit, stare, and try not to climb the walls.

And we wait.

.

.

.

Edward picks up on the first ring. _"Hey you. What's the latest?"_

"Almost out of surgery, but the doctors are pleased so far." My words are whispered, like if the universe hears them, it'll toss in a monkey wrench.

" _Excellent. How's your mom holding up?"_

"Strong enough on the outside before the surgery. Until we got an update a little while ago, she was a wreck. Knowing things are bad but could've been a hundred times worse is messing with her mind."

His responding deep sigh warms me, like he's got just as much to lose as the rest of us. I love that I know he cares that deeply, and it's not an act.

" _I'm so glad you're there for her."_

"Me too." Comfortable silence takes over for a few seconds. My fingernail carves a B into the Styrofoam cup on my lap. I take it a step further and add the plus sign and an E. It's not a tree in No-man's Land, but it'll do for now. There's so much I want to tell him about me, about him, about everything I'm feeling. But I know if we scratch at the wall and it sprouts a tiny leak, my dam of heightened emotions will burst right behind it and neither of us is in any position to handle that properly. "Well, I know you're busy at work. I just wanted to give you an update."

" _No, I really appreciate it. I'm gonna call my parents and let them know. They've already called me twice this morning."_

"They're awesome."

" _You're awesome."_

Somewhere between his awesome comment and my next breath, the tide of emotions comes raging out in a deluge."I don't feel awesome." I unsuccessfully choke back sobs while trying not to hyperventilate. "I feel like this year has gone from bad to worse to worst, but the flicker of hope in there is you and me, you know?" I inhale a shuddery breath, desperate to keep it together. "I'm so thankful my father's surgery is going well so far, and ultimately it'll make him so much healthier, but he's still not out of the woods yet. Anything could go wrong. Just when you think things might be looking up, BAM! Sucks to be you again!" I stop waving my hand around, trying to get calm. Thank goodness I'm alone in this waiting room or some passing nurse might be tempted to call the psych ward. "It'll be between a two to three-month recovery for him. I know my mom'll need help getting him resettled at home. I swear I'm ready to jump in and set him up with a trainer at the gym and clean out their fridge and pantry. But at the same time, all I want to do is be back there with you right now." I tear my fingers through my hair and fall into an arm chair. "It's a clusterfuck of emotions and none of them puts me in your arms and here helping my parents at the same time." I shake my head, dashing the tears of self-pity. "Makes me feel so, so guilty."

" _Okay, okay . . . easy. One thing at a time."_

Silence stretches while I take several breaths, embarrassed once more that Edward's got a front row seat witnessing my hysterics take over.

" _We_ will _figure this out, Bella. I promise."_

"I know. I just . . . I'm—I'm—"

" _You're exhausted. You've been up for almost twenty-four hours."_

"There you are," Jasper appears in the doorway and more tears pour from my eyes. The instant relief at seeing my brother here is overwhelming. He wraps me up into a hug I desperately needed. "Who's on the phone?"

"Edward," I whisper.

" _Hey, you go spend time with your brother. I'm glad he got there safe. Give him my best."_

I step back from Jazz and wipe my cheeks, blowing out a hard breath. "Yeah, I should get back to my mother anyway. Told her I'd come back with coffee and took a detour to call you instead."

He chuckles. _"It's okay, honestly. We'll catch up later."_

"All right"—I nod— "thank you . . . for listening. For being there yet again."

" _If I can't physically hold you, hearing your voice—no matter what the reason—is the only thing I'd rather be doing."_

His words have the ability to make me soar. "Bye."

" _Bye."_

I pocket my phone and hug Jasper again. "I'm so glad you're here. Did you see Mom yet?"

"Yeah, first we went to the floor where Dad had been earlier, looking for directions. The nurses sent us up to the surgical waiting room. We were there for a little while, and then I came looking for you. Alice stayed back with Mom." He cocks his head, rubbing my back. "Everything all right?"

I sit down, leaning forward over my legs with my head hanging down. "I'm just emotionally spent. Nerves are raw, heart and mind are all over the place . . . feels like the wheels are coming off."

His right hand massages my neck. "I get it. It's a hell of a lot to take in, but even though it's a longer road than we hoped, it sounds like Dad's gonna be fine."

I rub my hands over my face, pausing at my mouth. "Mom's gonna need help. I think I need to stay here for a while."

Jasper readjusts the band for his watch. "Did you get any bites on the resumes you sent out?"

"Two. They want me to come in for interviews as soon as possible."

"Well, if it happened fast for you in Florida, I'm sure it can happen fast in Jersey, too." He leans forward to mirror my position, catching my gaze.

I nod, not voicing my extra concerns about Edward and me. Where will we fit into all of this? It's selfish to even say it out loud. My self-loathing is off the charts today and I hate it. I'm not usually a bitter person, but my roller coaster of emotions is reaching new heights today.

"Hey." Jasper taps his shoe against mine. "Edward's waited thirty years, right?"

I smile and huff, my eyelids closing slowly. My brother knows me so well.

"He'd wait thirty more if you needed him to." He wraps his arm around my shoulder, giving me a couple of tugs. "I get the feeling he's not going anywhere unless it's with you."

.

.

.

"Well, there's a creepy lookin' mug," Jasper teases, pushing off the radiator in the hospital room and sidling up to my father's bed. "How're you feeling, rock star?"

Dad clears his throat. "Like somebody ran me down. Feel like I could sleep for days." His voice is incredibly weak; he shouldn't even be talking. His eyes are closed but his weary smile has us all breathing a collective sigh of relief. "Glad you're here, kiddo." He cracks one eye open. "Alice, thanks for keeping him company. Sorry I'm not wearing my Sunday best."

Alice steps forward, waving Dad off. "Nothing I haven't seen before in my line of work." She smiles and winks. "Glad you're feeling better, though."

"Yeah, it wasn't easy keeping me calm for over sixteen hours," Jasper says, snorting. "She deserves a medal."

Alice scoffs, smacking at my brother's hand.

"So, the doctor said the surgery went well," I chime in.

"Triple bypass, Charles," Mom scolds him, like he could've predicted the severity of the blockages.

"You'll be here in the ICU until tomorrow, but then you've bought yourself a room in the step-down unit for the rest of the week," I add, trying to diffuse the tension. "They'll be sending you home with orders for physical therapy, all sorts of new, fun pills—"

"And a new lifestyle!" Mom chimes in, half-enthusiastic, the other half fueled by the anxiety that she came so close to losing Dad.

The charge nurse peeks her head around the curtain. "Hey, folks. Now that he's awake, we need to stick with the rules. One visitor at a time. Sorry."

"What time is it?" Dad mumbles, his eyes closing again.

"It's almost seven, Sleeping Beauty. You took your sweet time coming out of that anesthesia."

Alice and I take turns whacking my obnoxious brother; even Dad manages to make a fist and shake it in his direction.

"Have any of you eaten?" Shelly, Dad's nurse asks, while taking his temperature.

"No," our chorus replies in unison, followed by some giggles.

"Our cafeteria's open for another ninety minutes." Shelly's encouraging tone pushes us to gather our things to head out.

Mom kisses Dad, telling him she'll be back soon.

"I'll see you in the morning, Daddy," I say softly. "Get some rest. Love you."

He nods with a smile.

"Visiting hours last until when up here?" Jazz asks as we all walk out together.

"Nine."

"Okay, well let's grab something to eat downstairs and then come back here again before we head home."

I shake my head, whispering to Jasper and Alice. "I'm not hungry."

Mom blows her nose into the tissue she just used to swipe at her eyes, adding, "No overnight visitors in the ICU, but I can stay with him when he's transferred back to his other room."

"Yeah, we all need to sleep in beds tonight. But you"—Jasper turns to me, wagging his finger— "you go home before you collapse. You've had no sleep at all. At least the rest of us catnapped in the last twenty-four hours."

I don't put up much of a fight. After kissing them goodbye, I promise to leave the living room light on for them before I pass out for the night.

Out in the car, I call Rosalie to update her on the latest, but it goes to voicemail. I leave a detailed message, assuming she and I can catch up in the next day or two. It's so comforting to know that my best friend is living down the road from my parents again. She and Emmett moved back to their hometown a couple of years ago; they wanted to raise their kids where we all grew up. I can understand the draw. The communities that make up the Pine Barrens in southern New Jersey embody a bubble of timeless, small-town appeal but they're close enough to bigger cities that you don't feel like you're completely out of touch with the real world.

When my phone rings a few seconds later, I assume it's Rose calling me back, but it's Edward.

"Hi there."

" _Hey. Is it a bad time?"_

"Not at all. I just left the hospital, actually. Dad's recovering in the ICU, and Jasper is taking Mom and Alice to the cafeteria before they shut down for the night. They'll be home after visiting hours end."

" _Oh, okay. Well, just call me when you get home. I want to hear the latest on your dad and talk to you about the meeting with my clinical supervisor."_

I click my tongue and scoff. "I can't believe I forgot to ask you earlier how it all went."

" _Bella, cut yourself some slack. You were more than a little preoccupied. But listen, just get home safely and we'll talk then."_

"I will." I'm silent for a few seconds, taking solace in the knowledge he's with me even though he's not _here_ with me. It's incomprehensible how—in such a short time—the thrill and comfort of having Edward back in my life and by my side again has calmed me. Between my tumultuous year with Tyler and now the medical drama with Dad, I'm relishing my newfound relationship with Edward. It's the lone rose thriving within the bramble that's threatened to strangle me multiple times.

" _Still with me?"_

I manage a tired smile simply because his voice is so sexy in its innocence and sincerity. "Yeah. I'm just thinking it'll be nice to have your voice be the last thing I hear before I fall asleep tonight. Overwhelmed with wrecked nerves on a crowded red-eye last night wasn't exactly conducive to relaxation."

He hums. _"I'll make sure to come up with my best bedtime story, how's that?"_

"I hope it's a happily ever after," I say through a yawn and then giggle. "Sorry."

" _I promise I'll work on a fairy tale ending if you promise to get home in one piece."_

The honk from the car behind me snaps me out of the trance his voice put me under. I stick my tongue out at the rearview mirror but smile at Edward's name highlighted on my phone. "Okay. I'm hanging up now."

" _Good,"_ he chuckles. _"Talk to you soon, sleepyhead."_

.

.

.

The ride home only gets scary when I realize I'm a block away from the house, and I don't remember the path I took to get here. As I pull into the driveway, I thank God out loud that I made it home without killing myself or anyone else. The neighbors must be having a party because there are cars lining both sides of the street. As long as they keep it to a dull roar, I'll be fine. I'm so wiped, I could probably sleep through a bomb going off in the next room.

I step onto to the front porch and realize I don't have my parents' house keys with me. I assume they're in a box in Jasper's hall closet in Florida right now. That's convenient.

Dammit.

There's a key hidden in the garage which I could get to if I traipse through the back yard. I'm pretty certain, though, they also held onto the fake rock Dad stashed behind his azalea bushes when we were in grade school. I drop my bags at the door, dodging the automatic sprinkler which is currently drenching the other side of the yard. The mulch and some scattered leaves I step through are a wet mess, but I ignore their sliminess and contort my body to fit behind the thicket.

Spider webs, jumping crickets, and slithering worms, oh my! Plus the disgusting humidity. Yuck. I need a shower, pronto.

I dig around in the garden bedding, tossing chunks of bark and a few pebbles around. This is vile. A perfectly rotten ending to a perfectly rotten day. Well, not completely awful, I harshly remind myself. Dad's alive and Dr. Brennan is optimistic about his recovery. Now begins the road to healing and a healthier lifestyle. I imagine this is going to be the harder part.

It's exhausting just thinking about it.

 _Where is this friggin' rock?_

"A-ha!" I snatch the fake stone from under the bush's exposed root, happy in my triumph. While I maneuver back over to where the azaleas meet the corner of the bay window, sprinklers at my feet and the main one embedded in the pachysandra pop up. Water sprays everywhere, soaking me from the knees down and even misting my face while I wrestle with the bushes.

I'm squealing like a moron as I dash over to the safety of the dry walkway, running my hands down my wet face and through my unkempt hair. "Could I possibly be any more of a disaster?" I growl at the trees and the fading daylight.

"I don't know, I think you look kinda cute."

I swing around, slack-jawed, staring Edward in the face as he makes his way up the front path. White t-shirt, green and blue plaid shirt left unbuttoned, and dark jeans with construction boots. Plus a backwards baseball cap and his wire-rimmed glasses, of course. I mean, really.

Lord, thank you for all blessings, great and small.

"You're here?" I gasp. "Are you kidding me?" I'm overwhelmed as tears pool in my eyes.

He widens his arms. "Where else would I be?"

I run and leap into his waiting embrace. Thank goodness he's built like a tree and barely even jostles when I throw my arms and legs around him. He chuckles softly and it makes me melt, I swear. While I bury my face in his neck, his hold tightens around my back and his fingers play with the edges of my hair.

"You okay?" he murmurs into my shoulder.

I sniffle, closing my eyes, not ready to move from the warmth of his neck. "I just can't believe you're here." When I raise my head, meeting his gaze, his arms squeeze me again.

"In the flesh."

"How did you know I needed you so badly?"

His thoughtful half-grin is followed by a shrug. "I took a guess, but really I just hoped you were missing me as much as I was missing you."

I lean forward, capturing his upper lip in a soft kiss. We move slowly against each other's mouth for several seconds until I smile against his lips; he mirrors me.

"Hi," I whisper.

"Hey, you."

"Thank you for coming to be with me. You've turned this day into something worth remembering."

He pecks me again. "I'm glad."

"I'm kinda spider webby and scuzzy after my tussle in the bushes, though."

"I like you scuzzy," he cuts in, winking. "But what were you doing back there?"

"Too lazy to walk around the house to get into the workshop where my parents hide their key, so I hoped I'd find the old one out here."

"Was it still in that fake rock?"

I giggle. "Yes! Can't believe you remember that. Anyway, I had to dig through slimy mulch and got pricked by pinchy azalea bushes. Oh, and I'm pretty sure a black widow tried to kill me, too."

"Well, let's get you in the house before nature attacks you any more tonight," he says with a chuckle and drops kisses to my lips, chin, and neck.

God, he makes me feel sexy, even under the circumstances.

I want to be his, and I want him to be mine in every way possible.

"I'm so tired, I might drown in the shower."

He cocks his head. "Well, I can't allow that to happen, now can I?"

"Any suggestions to keep me safe?" I'm mesmerized by the piercing look in his eyes as he studies me. The slow bob of his Adam's apple and the tensing of his jaw leads me to believe the New Jersey humidity isn't the only reason we're feeling extra warm.

"Chaperone?" he asks with mirth and need in voice.

"Yes, please."

.

.

.

The bathroom door clicks locked while I turn the water on in the shower. My stomach is knotted up, but when I feel his strong arm wrap around my waist, spinning me, I remember there's no reason for fear or anxiety.

His thoughtful yet hungry eyes tell me why. There's only Edward and Bella. Not the ones with knobby knees and scarred elbows from crashing our bikes or taking a spill off a skateboard when we were ten years old. No, the scars we bear mark our hearts, bruised and bloodied, but somehow now—in each other's arms—we're able to ignore them, put away that old pain for a while and maybe even forever.

Our past doesn't have to and won't define us. A butterfly that escapes its chrysalis, where it's been trapped for so long, doesn't look back. It flutters its wings, gains strength with each stroke and flies off to start the next phase of its life.

Our new course started in Arizona and is continuing tonight.

With his gaze holding mine, my fingers slide over his broad shoulders to pull his button-down off his arms. Again, I slink my hands up his flexing abs as his white t-shirt bunches at my wrists.

"Here, let me." Edward takes over, slipping it over his head, leaving him standing in front of me wearing only jeans. He removes his glasses and places them on the counter before stepping toward me.

With my back against the wall, he plants his arms on either side of my head. Caged and loving it, I reach to cup his face with my hands and watch as he swallows tightly.

I can almost hear identical mantras in our heads.

 _It's us. Just you and me. Bella and Edward. Edward and Bella_. _It should've been us all along._

Dipping down, his mouth finds mine over and over as our kisses intensify.

My hands travel from his neck, down his rippling chest, and end with my fingers tugging on his belt loops. He's so close, but I want— _need_ him closer.

Suddenly we're both fighting to undo the buttons of my blouse while steam billows from behind the glass doors of the shower. It takes no time at all until he's naked before me and slipping my panties down my legs. As they inch closer to the floor, Edward's soft lips and hot breath trail wet kisses across my collar bone and down to my breasts.

My shuddering has him stand and lead me into the shower where the cloud envelops us like a warm blanket.

"May I?" His gruff voice is full of sex and want while I gather my hair at the top of my head with a clip. I nod and smile, and he fills the palm of his hand with creamy body wash. His hands move over my skin like he's reading a map and knows where all the buried treasure is hidden. I find myself gasping and sighing as he swallows each of my breaths with his commanding lips. "You're more beautiful than my dreams could conjure up."

The soapy suds from my body transfer to his. Our kisses are ravenous one minute and delicate the next. I can't keep up, but I don't even care. All I know is feeling his weight press up against me, while I explore the cuts of his toned arms down to the defined V dip of his lower stomach, is a high like I've never experienced.

When my hands grab his ass and squeeze, Edward moans into my mouth again, this time scooping me up to sit at his waist. He spins us under the shower head allowing the water to rain down between our heaving chests, rinsing away all the bubbles.

Reaching behind me, I smack the dial against the wall, shutting off the water. When my lips dance across his cheek to nibble on his ear he hums and I bite my lip, thrilled to elicit these sounds from him. I lick at the droplet of water slinking down his tensing neck and his fingers press harder into my back. My belly twists in anticipation when he sighs and groans my name.

Cocking my head to the side, we study each other somewhere between a smirk and a smile on both of our faces. I close my eyes and lean forward pecking him once, twice, and then opening my lips to pull on his lower one.

"Bed," I whisper against his mouth.

He nods and slips his tongue past my lips again. "Yes."

After I slide away the door, he steps forward and I grab a towel from the bar as we leave the bathroom.

"Remember where you're going?" I say with a giggle, wrapping the soft cottony fibers around him like a cape.

He moves us into my childhood bedroom and pauses at the foot of the queen bed. "Remembering would suggest there was a chance I'd forgotten." His voice is still gravelly, so deep . . . desirable. Laying me down in the middle of the bed, he hovers over me, his slickened hot chest moving in time with mine. "I never forgot, Bella. Not ever."

My throat is dry as I stare with longing into his dreamy eyes, but I feel the need to spill a secret I'm not necessarily proud of. "Many times over the years I found myself wishing I could erase you from my mind, from my heart." My index finger runs over his lower lip while he listens intently. "Only because it hurt to know you were out there and not mine. It made me so sad to think you were doing well and living happily, and I wasn't there to share in it . . . or be the reason for it." My confession stalls when he kisses me hard.

We fight for gasping breaths, our mouths moving over each other's lips. Across his cheek, down my jaw . . . there's nowhere that our tongues and teeth don't travel. Meanwhile his hand smooths down the side of my naked body as he settles himself between my thighs.

Our assault slows and he pecks me gently this time, his lips millimeters from mine. "We lost so many years based on assumptions and miscommunications." He shakes his head, his studying gaze concentrated on me. "Never again. No more hidden feelings. No more regrets."

I lift my head from the pillow 'cause I have to kiss him again and again.

"When something's on my heart, I'm laying it on the line," he promises. "You're too important to me to let you slip from my grasp again."

If my beaming smile didn't give it away, I'm certain my heart hammering the symphony in my chest conducted by him would do it.

"No more wasted time," he continues. "You feel something, you tell me."

I catch a chill and shudder, pressing my head into the pillow. When my trapped body shifts, I know I want to lighten the moment. "Oh, I feel something." I thrust my hips up to give him a nudge and he gets a devilish smile.

He leans his head aside. "Do you want me to use—"

"No," I cut him off with a nibble to his chin. "I just want to feel you."

His mouth devours mine again. While my hands grip and grab at the muscles of his arms, shoulder blades and back, he slides his arm between our undulating bodies.

When his exploring hand stops between my legs, I whimper. Huffing a chuckle, he licks and sucks the sensitive skin under my ear. He rubs the pads of his fingers from my entrance up to my clit, causing me to hiss and whine, unable to wait anymore.

"Please, Edward," I plead just as he starts to grind his pelvis between my legs. It only takes a few strokes until he penetrates me fully.

He stills, and I still, and he threads his fingers through mine, pushing my hands into the mattress. Kissing me softly, he whispers against my mouth, "You okay?"

I nod, feverishly pulling at his lips with my own. "Perfect."

He takes his time at first, thrusting slowly in and out, teasing my mouth, cheeks, and nose with playful nips and pecks. It's when I relinquish my hands from his grip, planting them on his ass and squeeze that he picks up his pace. His hips swivel and then he plunges over and over again. He's rubbing and pulsing inside me where the line between pleasure and pain is my breaking point.

I'm with Edward. The Edward . . . _my_ Edward.

We grunt and groan and sigh and suck and it's fucking and making love and teenage angst and puppy love and old friends and new lovers and just . . . bliss.

All it takes is tipping my head to the side to watch his muscular, tanned body push against and into mine, and my mouth falls open as the rush of my orgasm washes over me.

Moments later, he reaches beneath me, tightens his hold, and rolls us over so that I can straddle him. His head is almost off the edge of the bed because of our diagonal position. We laugh and readjust before I position myself over him and slide back down his shaft.

With one hand on my hip and the other massaging my breast, he pumps his pelvis up while I steady my palms on his chest to rise and fall in time with him.

"You are sexy as hell," he says softly, trailing one hand up to my neck. He pulls me forward while lifting his chest from the bed to meet me halfway for another lip lock. His other arm props him up, and I ride him faster but with longer strokes. "You're gonna make me come, Bella."

I dive down, slipping my tongue back into his mouth. He holds my face in his hands; he's concentrating, studying me, maybe us.

He moans and I bounce a little faster until he tears his face away, pressing his cheek onto the mattress, an open-mouthed grin on his face. "Yesssss, Bella. Goddamn."

I don't stop my movements until he turns back to me. I look down between our heaving bodies. My breasts dance along his chest, and there's a sheen on our skin which is a combination of remaining shower water and sweat.

I lift myself off his body and lie down, curling into his side just as he wraps his arm around my back. We're silent, catching our breath as my fingers meander across his chest, through the sparse hair there and follow the trail down his abs to where more hair gathers below his navel.

"I can't believe I just had sex with Bella Swan," he says with a satisfied hum.

I snort and lean over, biting his nipple. "The nerve that I just had sex with Edward Cullen." Our teasing grins make me giggle, and I stretch to give him a couple of pecks. "You good?"

He nods, his fingers tracing a pattern from my upper arms down to my thighs and back. "I'm—I'm on some kind of cloud, I think." He shakes his head, staring past me toward the ceiling fan. "It's surreal, but it's exciting and it's . . . it's like a dream. One that you never ever let yourself bank on, that's finally come true, you know?"

I huff. "Yeah, I'm right there with ya." I shrug, connecting the random freckles on his chest across to his shoulders and upper arms. "Us being together like this was only ever impossible in my eyes, so I just had to let the thought go. And now we're here." I look around my former bedroom. "And we're old."

"Hey," he scolds with a chuckle. "We're old _er,_ but we're not ancient, kid. I mean, I think we did pretty well here tonight."

I become shy for a split second and bury my face near his arm. "Yeah, no fumbling and bumbling kid moves. No practicing necessary; we're performance-ready," I mumble.

"Speak for yourself." His eyes widen. "I'm a fan of perfection. I'm thinking practicing with you would be highly advisable."

"I could be convinced," I say grinning slyly and scoot my body up so that I'm half-draped on him, tangling my leg over his. My lips seek out his once more, and we kiss until we're breathless again. "You being here . . . it's just"—I shake my head— "words fail me." The emotions thicken in my throat, and I feel tears pooling for the umpteenth time in the last twenty-four hours.

Edward folds his other arm behind his head, his face blanketed in concentration while he stares at me. "You came to find me last week because you hoped I wanted your friendship back in my life, Bella."

I nod, my damn lower lip quivering while I try to hold it together.

"Well, I'm here tonight because I'm ready to finish what you started. No matter what has to happen, whatever we have to do . . . I want to do it. I want you. I want us. Whatever this road is, I'm so fucking thankful it intersected with you again."

A tear spills over my cheek and I smile, leaning in to kiss him again.

When his head settles back on his crooked arm, he gives me a sexy wink. "How's that for a bedtime story?"

* * *

 **A/N: Much love and thanks to my team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. Couldn't do this without them. Thank you to all my readers and those who keep me entertained with their reviews. I love hearing from you and so appreciate you all being here for this journey.**

 **Hoping to post again in the next two weeks or so. See you then.**

 **xo, Jen**


	22. Chapter 22

**(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

 **EPOV**

The smell of brewing coffee greets me while my eyes try to adjust to the daybreak filtering through the windows. Seeing Bella asleep on the pillow next to me sets off a barrage of flashbacks to last night, and I find myself grinning into my pillow. I can't remember the last time I felt like this.

On top of the damn world.

Maybe when I was eleven and Mom and Dad surprised Embry and me with that trip to Disney World. Maybe at seventeen, when I scored the winning goal that took us to State the year we won. Maybe when Bella walked into PJ's out of the blue all those years ago . . . at least until I saw the ring on her finger. Or maybe last Monday, when I opened up my front door and saw her standing there for the first time since I'd long ago given up all hope of ever having her back in my life.

But somehow, here we are.

She's lying on her stomach, arm folded and hand tucked under her cheek. The sage green sheet drapes across her sun-kissed back just above her waist. It's like a postcard image of a beach glass-colored ocean meeting the shoreline. Every time she exhales, that pouty bottom lip puffs out ever so slightly. I need to suck on it again. Long, wavy hair fans out over her upper back; I want to run my fingers through it over and over. Then there's the rounded hint of her hidden breasts. The visual excites me to the point I need to relax my morning wood. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't eager for a repeat performance of last night's love-making.

As soon as possible.

She's so gorgeous, it hurts. It leaves an ache in my gut when I stare at her and know she's mine. Finally. She's _finally_ fucking mine, and I swear to everything good and holy I will not screw this up.

I reach over to the nightstand and pick up my watch: 7:03. Bella mentioned last night that the ICU visiting hours are a little more restrictive than regular visiting hours, so she doesn't intend to leave any earlier than nine this morning. Even still, I'm sure she'll want to clean up a bit before we head up there. Thank goodness we had the wherewithal to straighten the bathroom before we fell asleep last night. The tornado of clothes we left strewn about prior to our shower was pretty hilarious.

We were more than a little eager.

There's a growl of passion that starts to erupt in my chest just thinking about that shower. The first time I saw her sensational body. Uncovered and all for me. As a young camper who caught glimpses of her years ago at swim lessons, I could only imagine so much. The reality of just how sensational she actually is didn't even compare to the dreams I conjured up for so long. I felt unhinged at times . . . couldn't believe she was mine. I wanted to be tender and gentle. Wanted to take my time, worship every inch of her. But then the pendulum would swing back and the animalistic side needing to claim her as my own took over.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to mind in the least.

Anyway, we crashed hard, not bothering to return to my rental car to grab my bags. I'll have to slip back into my clothes from last night before I run outside.

I twist to the side, untangling the sheet so it doesn't pull from Bella's back. Standing to stretch, I muffle the roaring yawn that attempts to rip from my chest.

"Mmm, mmm, mmm . . . that ass. _Lord_ have mercy."

My eyes widen as I turn, mildly shocked at her candor. "Bella," I say with a chuckle. "Good morning to you too, sexy lady.

I step into my jeans, figuring commando is fine until I grab a quick shower. I'm smiling down at her while she blushes, shakes her head, and buries her face in the pillow. She mumbles something, which I couldn't decipher if I tried.

Sitting down next to her, I do everything in my power to stop the need to yank the sheet from her body and go for some morning delight.

I lean in and cup my ear. "What was that?"

She props herself up on her elbows, and I get a perfect view of her spectacular cleavage. "I said I can't believe I had sex with Edward Anthony Cullen in my childhood bedroom, and he just stood up and showed me his delectable tush like it was a normal occurrence."

"Delectable, huh?"

Closing her eyes tightly, she nods. "Extremely," Bella sighs and face plants back into her pillow.

I bend down, kissing the back of her head. "Well, thank you for your generous analysis. I'd have to argue and say that the view _I_ have is entirely more fantastic than yours, but right now I could really use my duffel bag and a toothbrush."

She rolls over and smiles, pulling wayward hair from her face before sweeping it over to her shoulder.

"'Kay. Let me throw some clothes on and we can go together. I don't hear anybody stirring right now, but somebody was obviously up and brewing coffee."

Biting the inside of my cheek is the only thing that stops me from uttering a string of obscenities when she slinks out of bed, and I get to gaze at her naked body. A sad minute later, she's wearing a t-shirt and skimpy denim shorts while I'm fastening the last button on my shirt.

She holds out her hand. "Ready for reintroductions?"

"Definitely."

I peer down the hall and recognize Alice from the pictures Bella shared on her phone last week. She's sitting on a stool at the kitchen island and catches my eye when she sees us walking into the dining room. "Good . . . _morning_!" Her eyes are wide but in a good way, and she can't contain her smirk.

"Bells, you want me to whip you up something before we all head out?" Jasper's got his head in the fridge while Alice sends a friendly wave my way. I smile, nodding back. "Mom's got English muffins, but there're plenty of eggs and cheese, too."

"Uhh, yeah, whatever you're making'll be fine, thanks."

"Can you make that two?" I add, winking at Bella.

Jasper does a double take. "What the?" The ingredients he's collected bobble in his hands, cheese and sausage falling to the ground. "Shit, shit! Grab the red peppers!"

Alice rushes over in time to save a glass jar of roasted red peppers from crashing to an untimely death at Jasper's feet. Meanwhile, we're all laughing.

"Didn't mean for you to lose your breakfast there, brother," I say, crouching down to grab the fallen items. When he straightens up, Jazz is just shaking his head, smiling so big. It actually bolsters me a bit, hoping the childhood friendship I shared with him might be patched together again, too.

"So good to see you, man," Jasper offers sincerely in an embrace. Chuckling, we pound on each other's backs several times. "You and I need to catch up." He points a spatula at my chest. "Edward, this is my girlfriend, Alice. Allie, one of the original members of the Tuckerton Tribe we went on about last weekend."

Alice hops off the stool and extends her hand. "It's really great to meet you."

"Good to meet you, too," I say, smiling.

She glances at Bella and winks. "Pretty awesome surprise, huh?"

Bella looks like the cat who swallowed the canary while slipping her arm around my waist. "Hmmm, you could say that."

"I'm gonna get breakfast going, campers," Jasper says, while rifling through the cabinet under the stove. "Can I pour you guys some coffee?"

Bella nods. "Yes, please. We're just gonna head out to Edward's car and grab his bag."

Jazz's head lolls back as he blurts out a laugh. "Didn't get a chance to do it last night, I take it?" He gives us a look that says _I'd bet my next paycheck you were a little too preoccupied to take care of luggage._

I snicker while Bella makes a face at her brother right before we turn around to leave.

"Shut. The. Front. Door!"

I whip all the way around to see Mrs. Swan standing frozen in the dining room. She's palming her cheeks but a grin emerges, which I match just before she bum-rushes me.

"Edward Cullen, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Bella's mother squeezes me tightly and I reciprocate. "So we had to have a family near-tragedy to get you back in our house?"

I huff as she pulls back from me, but her hands are still clasping my shoulders. "I wish it wasn't under these circumstances. But I owe it all to your daughter."

Bella blushes, smiling at us.

"Well, we're going to count our blessings no matter what." Mrs. Swan winks and tightens her grip on my arms with a little shake. "It's wonderful to see you. Thank you so, so much for being here."

"My pleasure. Any updates on the chief?"

She steps past me and heads into the kitchen. Bella comes forward, tucking herself into my side to listen to her mom's answer.

"I just got off the phone with Shelley. He had a restful night, so that's good. He'll be in the ICU until at least lunchtime, and then they'll move him to a bed in the step-down unit." She accepts the mug of coffee Alice hands her and shakes a packet of sweetener. "It's silly for all of us to go up there and wait when only one person can be with him at a time, though."

"Just tell us what you want us to do, Mom," Jasper speaks up. He's standing over the stove, working on our omelets. "Whatever's easiest for you."

"Well, I think I'll drive up there now to sit with him this morning. Then, when they're getting ready to transfer him, I'll give you all a call." She glances around the kitchen. "Does that sound all right?"

"That's fine, Momma," Bella answers. "You sure you're okay to drive?"

"Oh yeah,"—she waves— "I slept really well after popping that Tylenol PM. I feel great . . . thankful." She sighs and nods, crossing her arms. "Dad's got a hell of a recovery ahead of him, but for now I'm just grateful to know he made it through his surgery and my kids are here with me." She clears the thickening emotions in her throat. "All four of them."

The four "kids" in the room exchange quick glances and thoughtful smiles.

Wow.

Feels pretty fucking fantastic to be considered family even when we've all been separated for so long. That says something. Says a lot, actually.

"Here." Jasper puts a plate down in front of his mom. "You go on ahead and eat this first so you can hit the road. The rest of us can have a sit-down meal since we're not racing out the door just yet."

"Yes, please eat up everything you can find so it doesn't spoil," Mrs. Swan encourages. "Plus, your father's about to be put on a whole new diet, which will thrill him, I'm sure. And we certainly don't need bacon and sausage in the house for that."

Bella and Jasper exchange knowing looks. "Done and done, Mom."

"I'm just gonna run out and grab my bag," I announce.

Warm fingers thread through mine. "I'll go with you."

I exchange a smile with Bella while we head outside. At the car, I pop the trunk and yank out my oversized duffel. "So, I didn't want to be presumptuous about staying. I can bunk at my buddy's house in Tabernacle. Somebody I tended bar with back in the day at PJ's. I already called him yesterday."

Bella's brows furrow. "Why wouldn't you stay here? I was about to stay with you in Arizona before I had to rush out of there."

Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I take her hand again and we walk up the path. "Yeah, but that was my house. No parents around. No permission required."

"Edward, my mom's not going to mind you staying with us. Jasper brought Alice with him and nobody looked at him sideways."

"Yeah, but your parents know they're a couple and have been for a while. I just—just didn't want to put anybody in an awkward position."

She huffs, shaking her head. "Come here, you crazy man."

I lean down and she grasps my chin gently, silencing me with a kiss. "I'll ask Mom if it'll make you feel better. But I'm almost positive she's expecting you to stay here now that she just saw you and fawned all over you . . . and hello? Called you one of her kids?" Bella makes a surprised face. "Hope that didn't freak you out."

We pause before opening the front door. "I kinda liked it. Helps me to know that my vanishing act didn't completely botch every relationship I forged as a child."

"You didn't," she whispers. "C'mon. Let's go get cleaned up so you can catch up with Jazz and get to know Alice. She's great." We step through the door but she stops short, turning back toward me. "And before this day is over, we're going around the corner to No-man's land where we can ravage each other."

I laugh out loud, wrapping my arm around her lower back and reaching for a handful of ass. "That'll be quite a leap from our innocent peck thirty years ago."

She gives me a coy smile. "What can I say? I'm all about the leaping these days."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

Mrs. Swan—Renee, as she quickly corrected me—said I was out of my mind if I thought I was bunking elsewhere. It was quite comical, but in the end, it again made me so thankful that Bella's family is going out of their way to welcome me back into their fold.

Spending the morning with Jasper and Alice was really easy. They regaled me with the great time they had on the overnight cruise with my brother and his girlfriend last weekend. Typical Embry stories; his nuttiness is legendary, and he always keeps the crowd laughing. I've also been given an open-ended invitation to go down to Panama City to visit Jazz any time I'd like.

We were cleaning up from breakfast when we heard from Renee, saying Chief Swan was about to be transferred to the step-down unit.

.

.

.

Bella takes the hand I offer over the center console as we follow Jasper and Alice up to the hospital. We decided to return Bella's rental car at a satellite office in town first, and we'll swing by a different office in Cherry Hill later to drop mine off. With her dad out of commission, Bella plans for us to use his car to get around, especially since we'll all be staying together at the house.

"So, you realize you never told me about your meeting with your clinical supervisor yesterday." Bella squeezes my fingers a few times. "How'd it go?"

"Well, I got placed in an out-patient rehab, which also includes some home care."

"Yay!" she cheers. "That's the one you were hoping for, right?"

"Mhmm, right downtown in Scottsdale. Pretty famous people on the roster, too. Could see some Cardinal and Diamondback action."

Bella's grin stretches from ear to ear. And I know she means it.

"Anyway, the interesting part I really wanted to tell you about is after logging so many extra clinical hours in my first two facilities, I only owe about three hundred hours 'til I fulfill all my requirements for my Master's. I was grandfathered into the program before they started changing the licensure requirements. Now students have to go straight into doctoral programs."

"Okay . . . so are you stuck with having to do a lot more schooling?"

"No, actually, my academics are all taken care of. Granted, I could take some more specialty courses, but at this point, I just have to finish my clinical hours."

"Is getting your doctorate something you've thought about?"

"Not until the last couple of years. It would make me a lot more competitive, and it comes with a larger salary which is always nice after racking up all these bills."

She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Preach. I think my student loans'll be paid off a couple of years before I retire."

"Anyway, my graduation is still set for December."

"That's fantastic. I'm so happy for you."

"It was a long time coming, but I'm really proud of myself."

She tugs me toward her, stealing a quick kiss I'm happy to give up. "I know your parents must be thrilled."

"Yeah. I'd imagine watching me struggle through so many aspects of life wasn't ideal for them. This'll be a helluva celebration for all of us. Have any plans on December 12th?"

"I can move some things around," she teases at first, but then her expression saddens. "Don't really know where I'll be. I get the sinking feeling I might end up here for a while. I'm sure the rehab my dad'll have to go through will be extensive."

When we stop at a red light, I turn toward her. "It will. I've worked with plenty of patients recovering from cardiac surgeries. It's more difficult for some than others. Your dad's always been really fit, so his rehab might be a lot smoother."

"I can't expect Jasper to put his life on hold and come up here to help. I only moved into my brother's place for about a week before I came out to see you. I'm the logical choice to stay in Jersey and help my parents, but I hate not being able to just drop everything to come be with you." Her deep sigh has me wishing I could lessen her burden. "And while I know we've been saying things like 'you and me,' 'us together,' future stuff . . . this is a precarious place in the beginning of a relationship for me to just be assuming I would've been starting over with you in Arizona anyway." She groans, burying her face in her hands and scrubs up and down before clearing her throat to speak again. "You didn't invite me to do any of that. These are just scenarios I've generated." Her voice gets louder. "I know I'm overthinking, but my brain can't shut off. And you're probably freaking out on the inside because I've completely lost my mind, planning a future you haven't even agreed to. Ugh! Is ten of eleven too early for a glass of Yellow Tail?"

I shake my head, still smiling. Her stream of consciousness banter makes me fall for her even more, but I don't want her to stress, either.

"Hey. Relax. You're not freaking me out with anything you're saying. If we were strangers, or if we were twenty-four years old, yeah, then maybe you'd probably sound a little presumptuous. But Bella, we're coming into this having known each other all our lives. Okay, so we haven't been around each other every day for the last twenty years"—I shrug— "but we're beyond the back and forth that comes with all that crap from muddling our way through our twenties, anyway." I inch the car into the intersection to make a left and move my hand to just above her knee, squeezing gently. "It's like I said last night, don't hold back. If you're feeling something, tell me. And I'll be straight with you, too. If we're not on the same page in that moment, we'll work it through to get to a compromise." I rub her thigh again to get her to look up at me. "I want to be with you. And I'm pretty sure I remember you saying that I owe you a lifetime of missed kisses. Be vulnerable with me. Don't be embarrassed by tears or conjured-up fears you haven't heard me mention." I shake my head, hoping she realizes nothing she's said is scaring me off. "I'm a big boy; if I'm bothered, I'll tell you. I'm not gonna jerk you around at all; I promise you. Your ex-husband won a fucking gold medal in that event, and I refuse to even chance you ever having to deal with any kind of pain like that again. So . . . does any of what I just said freak _you_ out?"

She dabs a knuckle in the corner of her eye, choking out, "No."

"Well good, then. So let's spend time together now, helping your mom this week, making plans for when your dad gets out. Hell, I'll even help you send out resumes to jobs around here. I'm here to help you, and to hug you . . . whatever you want. I have the rest of this week off like my boss had originally planned. I'm yours to do with as you see fit."

"All mine, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am. Whenever, wherever. . ."

She reaches for the glove box and digs out a napkin. "Did you just quote Shakira?"

"Not intentionally," I chuckle. "But, yeah, same premise."

We pull into the parking lot of the hospital, finding a spot near the back. Before I reach for the door handle, I squeeze her hand again and bring it up to my lips. "You all right?"

She lets out a deep sigh and nods. "Okay, this is me taking a breath and chilling the fuck out. Sorry for going off the deep end again. Clearly, my nerves are shot. Any other guy in the beginning of a relationship would've probably run screaming for the hills by now."

"Well, then they'd be fools," I reason. "And it'd be my gain anyway. I'm not running. You're stuck with me."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

Being in South Jersey these last few days, especially in the town Bella and I grew up in, has brought back a crazy amount of nostalgia for me. I remember why I used to love living here so much and why being here in my twenties started to hurt so badly when friendships fizzled and relationships I thought I could count on were no longer there.

It's a vibe that comes with the small town. People are still friendly. They say hello if you pass each other while taking a walk. They shop in the mom and pop stores instead of driving the twenty minutes out of town to go to Target or Walmart. Kids still ride their bikes everywhere. Folks have enormous decorations that came off dismantled floats from Canoe Carnival sitting on their property. Outsiders would think it strange to see a twenty-two-foot goose wearing a sequins top hat and vest on someone's front lawn. Here though, it's just a symbol of how a community came together after working hard for months of building floats and spent the first weekend in August partying their asses off to watch the magic come together.

A whole new generation is living here, now. Granted, there might be a handful of people we went to school with that either inherited their parents' home or perhaps bought their own place because they knew Medford Lakes is a gem in the middle of the woods of New Jersey. In any case, it feels comfortable again. I'm definitely not on edge, worried that I'll run into somebody from back in the day. And even if I do, they can't hurt me. I'm content in my skin and know that everything that's happened to me, good or bad, led me to the outlook I have today. And with Bella at my side, my confidence will continue to increase exponentially.

.

.

.

"So good to see you," Rosalie whispers. "I mean that. We've missed you." We pull back a bit and she nods toward Emmett. "And he's missed you more than you'll ever know."

Rosalie raises her brows, telling me she's dead serious.

Emmett puts his hand out to me. I reciprocate with a smile and he pulls me into a tight embrace. "Missed you, old friend. Don't disappear on me again, you hear?"

"It wasn't personal."

When he steps back, Emmett cocks his head. "It was completely personal . . . it was _your_ life and you needed real friends."

I nod, looking off to the side, hoping to not get too emotional in the parking lot of Pic's.

"Hey, we're gonna go in and get a table." Bella sends me a wink and heads for the entrance with Rosalie, leaving Emmett and me a few minutes to talk.

"So . . . they're not subtle," Emmett snickers, batting away a fly. "Listen, I don't want to drag this out or anything. You had to make the choices that were best for you back then, and I get it."

I stuff my hands in my back pockets and blow out a deep breath.

"It's awful that you went through something so devastating without any true friends by your side. I know I wouldn't have been the first person on your list to call, but I hate that you gave up before you got to my number, know what I mean?" He's squinting toward me, the setting sun shining right on his tanned face.

"I do. And I can't change the past. But like I told Bella . . . it was about self-preservation. I didn't want to keep finding out that people I'd once considered the greatest of friends turned out to be the shittiest of souls." I shrug. "It was just easier to walk away and start fresh with people who didn't know my appearance should've been any different."

Emmett steps closer to his car as a jeep rolls by. "And I get that. Like I said, I know we weren't the type of guys to call each other every day or see each other every weekend. But to have you just vanish for months and years at a time and then go completely silent after that night we ran into each other at Braddock's . . ."

"Bella's rehearsal dinner." I rub my fingers across my forehead. "My mind was pretty wrecked back then. It was like reality crashed down on me, and it made me sick to my stomach. Knowing how good she was . . . _is_ . . . and that she'd never be in my reach again. I was dealing with selfish feelings and self-pity and regret." I clear my throat, tamping down the gut-twisting memories that want to erupt. "I was in a really bad place, mentally. And I'm sorry I just walked away from our friendship. I just—"

Emmett cuts me off with a wave. "We don't need to rehash this, I'm serious. You had every right to deal with your pain the way you did. I'm just saying I would've been there . . . but the bottom line is, I'm still here, and I'm glad Bella tracked you down."

I huff. "Me too."

"Yeah? Things are . . . good?" He jerks his head toward the restaurant, and I know he means things between Bella and me.

"It's uhh—it's beyond what I could've ever hoped for with her . . . and definitely more than I'll ever deserve."

"Well then, whaddya say we go enjoy our better halves?"

I smile, thankful yet again that I'm getting an opportunity to rebuild a friendship I thought I'd trashed. "Let's do it."

.

.

.

Two hours later, we've basically eaten our weight in hot wings, and the girls are well on their way to being hammered. I stopped about a half hour ago, as did Emmett. Now we're just laughing, reminiscing, and enjoying watching Bella and Rosalie be silly in their tipsy states.

Rosalie lays her cheek on her hand and stares at me. I can't help but laugh, nudging Emmett with an elbow. "She's gone, man."

"Just about." He snorts and raises his hand to flag down our server.

Bella's hand finds my knee. Before I can raise an eyebrow in her direction, she's sliding it up my denim-clad thigh. "Looking for something?" I ask.

With her eyes half-closed, she hums. "You know it."

Damn this woman. I swallow tightly, trying to play it cool in public. But I'm craving that mouth of hers again. "C'mere," I whisper.

She leans in, millimeters from my face, still with the half-lidded eyes. I have to chuckle. After pecking her lips twice, she sighs, sitting back in her chair with a very satisfied look of bliss.

"I can't believe you had sex with Edward Cullen!" Rosalie blurts out causing Emmett to pitch forward, laughing. I just shake my head while Rose waves her hand in my direction. "I mean, seriously! Edward Cullen!"

Bella giggles and leans into the table. We all come closer, waiting for what we assume will be her quiet response. "Yeah, well, you married Emmett McCarty . . . hello!"

My eyes pinch shut. That was anything but quiet.

Emmett's head rolls forward. "Here we fuckin' go."

"I know!" Rosalie squeals. "Who do we think we are?" Both girls are cackling and smacking the table.

Well, if we're going down the high school route, I may as well have a little fun with Bella. I've never forgotten the night we spent riding around town years ago, when she asked me if there was any truth to the rumor that the guys I hung with in high school used Tastykake pies to practice going down on a girl. Her reaction was priceless when I didn't deny it.

"Hey, Em, any new Wawas pop up in the last few years around here? Or do I have to go all the way back out to Tuckerton?"

He shakes his head. "Nahh, don't go that far out. There's one on Oakshade on your way back toward our houses."

"Good deal." I grab my glass of water and shake the ice around. "I'm missing Tastyklair pies." I fix my gaze on him, leaving my last thought out there in the hopes he's following. "Been too long."

The grin that cracks on Emmett's face tells me all I need to know. He snickers. "Oh yeah? You should probably stock up before you head back to Arizona."

I raise my palm to him. "See? You get it. I spent almost seven years without those gems. Soft, flaky crust . . . cream in the middle." I stretch my arms back, putting one behind Bella's back. "A man's got needs."

"Tastyklair pies?" my girlfriend repeats, definitely sloshed, but narrowing her eyes. I bet she's onto me. "Why not just go for the chocolate lava cake they have here?"

I lift one shoulder, egged on by Emmett, who's chuckling behind his fist. "Nope. Only the pie will do." I hum. "Call it a hankering."

"I might join you," Emmett adds with a wink and turns toward his wife. "What do you think, baby? Should we swing by Wawa for some pie?"

"Look, if I'm getting a Tastykake, it's gonna be a Peanut Butter Tandy Cake," Rosalie chimes in while digging through her purse. "What's with the sudden need for Tastykake pies anyway?"

"You just heard Edward. He hasn't had it for almost seven years."

Now it's my turn to chortle, my head tipped back, and my hands flying to my eyes to wipe the tears forming.

Bella's posture shoots straight up like a board just as she quirks her eyebrow. After giving me a knowing look, she grabs Rosalie's arm, pulling her in to whisper. Five seconds later, Rosalie's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"Ohhhhhhh, pies!" Rosalie points her thumb at her cohort. "Yeah, so after conferring with my client, we're all on board for the Wawa pie purchase." She gets out of her chair, wobbles a bit, and now Emmett and I are rolling in the aisles. "You say a man has needs? Shooooooot, a woman has needs, too, Cullen. Let's get this show on the road."

Bella stands next to Rose while Emmett and I calm our hysterics, grabbing our keys off the table.

"Think they caught on?" Emmett asks, trying to catch his breath.

I nod. "Yeah, pretty sure the secret's out."

Reaching for Bella's hand, I pull her into my chest while I'm still chuckling. When we all turn toward the door, Emmett smacks Rose on the ass. "Move it, woman. I need my pie."

"Trust me, hubby. I need it, too," she says, giggling. "Thank goodness for 24-hour Wawas, children knocked out on allergy meds, and date nights." Rosalie raises her fist in triumph. "Momma's gettin' some tonight!"

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

On Friday morning, Bella and I wait in the lobby for her parents, brother, and Alice. Bella's dad is being discharged any minute now, which in hospital terms means within the hour, at a minimum. Tracking down doctors for discharge paperwork is always a waiting game.

I know being in Jersey this week was the right move for me. Chief Swan and I had a ball the other night playing cards with Jasper, while Alice took Renee and Bella out to dinner. Even though their world's been upside down, the Swans have made me feel like I always belonged, like no time had gone by at all.

When Renee kicked us out of the hospital at the end of each day, Bella and I had a chance to be on our own. We've gone on walks every night around the lakes, visiting some of the memorable spots from our formative years. My eyes have continued to open regarding my perception of how the world sees me and what my reaction should be. I've been thinking over all my options and possibilities, and I know where I belong.

It's next to Bella, no contest. As soon as fucking possible.

And in the same breath, I hate knowing I leave on Sunday afternoon, but we're gonna be fine. I have no doubt in my mind.

The weird music coming through the intercom system shakes me out of my drifting thoughts. "What is with that sound?"

Bella tosses a magazine on the end table. "What sound?"

I point to the ceiling. "They're usually playing some soft muzak, but every so often there's a chimy, different song. It's weird." Almost sounds like a kid's music box or something.

Bella's stare is fixed beyond my shoulder, and her eyes get a little glassy, though she's still smiling. "It's a lullaby." Her gaze meets mine and she rubs an itch on her nose before sniffling. "Means a baby's been born upstairs. Sweet," she whispers and nods, looking off again. "They did the same thing at the hospital where Rosalie had Alex and Ashleigh."

A minute of silence passes between us before another lullaby comes through the speakers again, and I let out a deep sigh.

"Wonder if it was twins," Bella says, biting her lip before flashing me another watery smile.

I swallow the lump that's managed to form in my throat in the last few seconds. Her gaze is still locked with mine, and before I know it, I crouch down in front of her chair, pulling her toward the edge.

"Hey."

"Hi." Her voice is quiet, a little broken.

"I want you to know something." I take her hands in mine, brushing my thumbs across her delicate fingers. "I know it's not going to be easy with us having to live apart for the foreseeable future, but I promised both of us that I'd speak my mind when I needed to."

She nods, encouraging me to go on, despite her melancholy expression.

"I know you're worked up about time. Even though you haven't said it out loud, I know you're worried about . . . ticking clocks."

"Edward—"

"No, let me finish. I know that's part of what has you so torn up. You want us to take our time and be reasonable about our relationship and its progression, but the reality is we already know what we want, right?" I dip my head forward, trying to catch her gaze. "Right?"

She sighs, her pooling tears now heavy enough to spill down the apples of her cheeks. "Yeah," she croaks.

"Well, listen . . . I don't want you to worry about us . . . not at all." I tip her chin up with my hand. "Bella . . . I love you. I'm _in_ love with you; I know I am." I inch closer to her, my voice dropping, hoping my sincerity is clear. "Let me give you a baby . . . babies. Whatever we're lucky enough to be granted. I want to. I'm more than ready for my life to not be on hold anymore." I puff out my cheeks, because, shit, that was a hell of a confession.

I hope I didn't completely floor her. Her silence doesn't scare me, though. I can be content in soaking up her innocent and undeniable beauty without needlessly filling the quiet with chatter. Her glassy eyes . . . they're just so mesmerizing. Like melted pools of milk chocolate, heated by the warmth of her heart.

I'm so goddamn lucky, I swear.

Her lids flutter closed, trapping tears on her long lashes. When she looks back up to me, her smile is soft. "I love you, too," she whispers and shakes her head. "Is this really happening?"

Her words make me want to tackle her with hugs and kisses. "It is if you let it." I widen my eyes and brush some hair back behind her shoulder. "It took us thirty years to get here. You haven't pressured me into this, Bella, but it's your decision, too. I can only imagine what this year has been like for you." I'm quiet for a few seconds before lightening the moment. "And this _isn't_ me saying we have to go home and procreate this instant."

She giggles and it calms me all over again.

"I mean, we can do the dress rehearsal as many times as you want. You'll never hear me complain about that," I add, winking. "But I'm just saying when you give us the green light, I say let's do it. Does that make sense?"

"It does."

"Good." I lean forward, aiming for a chaste kiss since we're in the lobby of the hospital. She deepens it for a few seconds, and it makes my heart beat in double time.

"Can I green light a dress rehearsal right now?" she asks in devilish mirth.

Looking around, I jerk my chin. "There's an ambulance out in the bay." My brows waggle. "Ever done it on a rolling gurney?"

Her head tips back as she laughs, and I'm so thankful we can be silly, serious, and sexy all in a matter of a few seconds. It's how I know she's the one.

She always has been.

Thank God for flames that manage to stay lit even through the roughest of storms.

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you, as always, to my wonderful team: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. And to my readers: my dedicated, fantastically incredible readers. I'm so happy you're enjoying reading this tale as much as I am writing it. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on today's update.**

 **Massive thanks and shout-outs to any of you who voted for _GREED_ which was named one of the Top Ten Fics of 2015 on the TwiFanFictionRecs blog, holy crow! AND some of you may have noticed that I posted a new comedy/romance one-shot titled, _Exes and Ho's_. It won 3rd place Judges' Vote and 4th place Public Vote in the Straight Thru the Heart Contest! So appreciate the support you all give me, seriously, guys. You all rock my world.**

 **xo, Jen**


	23. Chapter 23

**(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

 **BPOV**

When Rosalie pulls into the parking lot of Leo's ice cream parlor, I jump out of my dad's truck, giddy to share my news.

"Well, don't you look happy?" Rosalie locks her car with the remote and comes over, kissing my cheek. "I had to lie to my children about where I was going."

I snicker as we head for the door. "Does your hubby know where you are?"

"Of course. I'm under strict instructions to come home with a pint of Sinatra for him."

"Oooh, my favorite. Edward and I were here three times the week he visited." I quirk a brow. "Sinatra's apricot swirl has some kind of aphrodisiac, I swear."

Rosalie whistles, high-fiving me. "Girl, you're not lying. Gotta wonder if they lace it with _Love Potion Number 9_ or something."

Steamy memories invade my mind of Edward and me down at the Beach Three dock two weeks ago. Started out innocently enough, cozying up on a blanket with a double-scoop sundae of Sinatra and black raspberry. Cold ice cream followed by hot, feverish hands . . . his teeth scraping along my neck, his mouth between my thighs. Sharing a dessert became sharing orgasms, and the blanket ended up getting tossed in a dumpster before we went home for the night.

I don't even care that I'm about to be thirty-seven years old. Breaking the rules and almost getting caught in public made me feel like a teenager again. And this time I was with the dreamy guy I'd been crushing on decades earlier.

My unlikely fairy-tale ending never ceases to amaze me.

Rose and I place our ice cream orders and wait while the girl gets our change. "So, what's got you all squeaky on the phone, or are you just here to regale me with more stories of Edward in the sack? I'm fucking jealous as all hell, by the way."

She deserves the cock-eyed stare I send her way. I thank the server and slip a dollar and some loose change in the tip jar. Rose meanders outside to find us a picnic table.

"What are you jealous of? You've been sleeping with Emmett McCarty for years."

She gives me a look and tosses her blonde waves behind her shoulder. "Yeah, and we have two kids under the age of five, Bella. We're lucky we don't wake to a knobby little knee up our nostrils on the regular."

Chuckling, I dig into my waffle cone with a spoon. "Okay, you win. But I'm sure you've gotten creative over the years."

"Life is exhausting, but, yeah, we usually laugh through our quickies. Did I tell you Em actually installed a lock on the inside top corner of the pantry door? Poor Alex wondered why it took me so long to get him a bowl of goldfish the other day." We both howl. "All right, enough about me . . . what's up with you?"

I put my spoon down, leaning closer to the table. "I'm late."

Her eyes widen. "Noooooo! How late?"

"Three days. But I'm _never_ late. Like, not ever."

"What about that time in college?"

I stick out my tongue at her steel-trap memory. "Fine, _one_ time in twenty-three years of having my period."

"Okay, so how long are you waiting before you take a test? Wait, fuck that"—she grabs her keys— "let's go to CVS right now!"

Reaching for her arm, I make her sit. "Relax, Quick Draw. I'm gonna try to hold out for a week if I can make it."

"You're crazy. I would've bought one already just to have it in the house," she says, snorting at herself. "Are you gonna tell Edward?" I shake my head before she fires away again. "And were you even trying?"

"Nope, not technically trying. Granted, we didn't do anything to prevent it, either."

"Ahhh." Her voice sings up and down a scale. "So, you two are just ready to jump in feet first and make some babies, huh?"

Picturing Edward Cullen cradling an infant in his strong, tanned arms has me swooning so hard, I damn near fall off the bench. "Well, I told you what he said at the hospital that day."

"Yes, of course. Who could forget the perfect man speech?" Rose uses her quoting fingers, but her teasing grin says she's thrilled for me and so thankful for Edward's genuine sincerity.

"Anyway, I just didn't think it would work this soon." I can't contain my smile. "What if I am?"

She claps and squeals, swaying left and right in celebration. "Then Auntie Rose gets to plan a baby shower, finally!"

We finish our ice cream, soaking up her rare free time. Our conversation goes from baby names to nursery themes to breast versus bottle. I've longed to have talks like this with my best friend.

"How's Dad's therapy coming?"

"Pretty well. Mom and I take turns driving him to rehab every day. The PT thinks he'll be knocked down to three times a week soon." I gather our trash and toss it in the bin behind me.

"That's a relief."

"Yeah, no kidding. He's just using a cane at this point to get around. And it's good that his therapy schedule won't be as vigorous because I'm gonna take the job with the Child Study Team here in town. It's a contracted position since there aren't enough kids in the district for the school to warrant its own team. They're desperate, though. Even gave me a signing bonus, like I'm some kind of star athlete."

"So you'll be local; that's fantastic!"

"Yup. Start bright and early on Tuesday. I miss working with kids."

"And you'll work school hours?"

"Yeah, but also make home visits to preschoolers who qualify for services."

"In and out of kids' bedrooms and playrooms; you'll be all brushed up and ready when Baby Cullen debuts next spring." She winks.

Her thought makes me giggle as we head to our cars. "Thanks for meeting me."

"My pleasure. And listen"—she wags her finger— "you call me as soon as you take that test. I can't wait to hear the results."

"Promise."

 **(-)(+)(-)(+)(-)(+)**

The dismal weather with its howling wind and raindrops splattering against my window is an appropriate soundtrack. Almost as if I'd hand-picked it myself. At least the dark gray sky is fading to black. Shitty situations are more tolerable when darkness surrounds. Nobody wants to be in a piss poor mood on a sunny summer day with butterflies flitting around and squirrels scampering up a monstrous oak.

The dark is better. I'll have to deal with life in the light soon enough.

I stare at my vibrating cell on the nightstand but can't bring myself to answer. I'm at a loss for words and don't have the emotional energy. A migraine settled in earlier when I couldn't stop crying.

It's all my fault anyway.

A few minutes later, Mom's knocking at my bedroom door. "Bella?"

"Yeah." My voice is waterlogged from tears, shed and unshed.

She doesn't open the door, just talks through it. "Honey, Edward's on the house phone. Said he's tried your cell and it keeps going to voicemail."

"Can"—I clear my throat— "can you tell him I'll call him back?"

"Sure . . . you all right?"

I'm not blubbering or choking on my emotions at the moment. I'm just so fucking sad. I take a deep breath before responding. "I'll be fine. Pretty bad headache."

"'Kay, I'll let him know. Get some rest."

This is the third time he's called since last night. We've talked on the phone every day since he went back to Arizona two and a half weeks ago. It's not fair for me to keep him out of the loop. We promised each other honesty.

Fuck, this sucks.

I'd gotten way ahead of myself, so excited at the thought I'd actually gotten pregnant already. The timing had been perfect. I had my period in the week leading up to the cruise on Jazz's boat. A week later, Edward and I made love for the first time. My cycle has always been so reliable. I was probably ovulating while he was here in town after Dad's surgery.

And we couldn't get enough of each other. It could've happened. It _should've_ happened. But . . .

I'd been a fool thinking the planets and stars aligned just that easily. Three days late became five . . . then a week. But on the eighth day, yesterday, in the parking lot of the Rite Aid where I'd just purchased a First Response test, I felt that familiar cramp, and my heart sank.

My period.

No baby.

And next Tuesday, September thirteenth will be my thirty-seventh birthday.

I pull the blankets up to my ears, roll toward the wall, and hope I'll get the courage to make the call and come clean with Edward at some point this weekend.

.

.

.

"Bella?"

I hear his deep voice, that bass line that sends the best kind of flutters toward my belly, but I must still be dreaming. Over my shoulder, my eyes try to focus in the dark while I turn my head toward the streak of light filtering through the crack in the doorway.

"Hmm?" I mutter, not sure if I'm talking to my imagination. The light is gone, though, and I hear no immediate response. I settle my head back into the pillow just as the bed dips behind me.

"Baby?"

Not dreaming anymore, I stiffen. It's Edward, but how—

"You feeling okay? Your mom says you have a migraine."

Still half asleep, I can't sort the words in my head. It's a combination of _what are you doing here_ , and _I can't believe you're here_ , and _thank God you're here, please hold me, I'm miserable_. Instead, I just shake my pounding skull as tears well in my eyes.

He spoons up behind me, kissing my neck.

"You're here," I manage to croak.

"I'm here," he whispers and hums. "Wanted to surprise you for your birthday. Granted, I can't stay till Tuesday to celebrate the day with you, but I figured an early birthday weekend would be fun." I hear his shoes clunk to the floor before he folds his arm over my waist. "I'm so sorry your head's killing you, though. You were making me nervous. We haven't spoken since Wednesday."

"I apologize for not calling."

"No worries," he assures. "Just missed hearing your voice. Can I get you anything? Are you in pain right now?"

"Yeah."

"What can I get you . . . or wait, was that yeah, you're in pain? Or . . . I—I'm shutting up." He huffs, his chin poised on my shoulder.

I shake my head, tears loosening from the corners of my eyes. "Pain for different reasons. I'm mostly sad."

He's holding his breath. "Why're you sad?"

A few seconds of silence stretch before I get the nerve to say it out loud. The admission makes it more real. And makes me sound so fucking naïve. "Got my period last night. Spent the whole last week thinking I was pregnant because I was late." I shrug. "I'm never late. So it made sense, or at least I convinced myself it was happening."

I exhale a shuddery whimper and he tightens his hold, pressing his lips to the back of my head again.

Clearing my throat, I continue, "It's dumb. I'm just hosting my own pity party. I'll get over it." I swallow back the sadness and try for rational. "Who gets pregnant the first week they have sex? Gimme a break, Bella."

"I suppose it happens. And it's not dumb." He threads his fingers through mine, our hands pressing into my chest. "I'm so sorry you're feeling let down." He's quiet; makes me wonder what he's thinking. "Doesn't mean we can't keep trying, right?"

I let go of his hand to drag my sleeve against my runny nose. "No. Doesn't mean that. Just feeling sorry for myself."

His warm lips rest on my shoulder again. "Mind if I feel a little sorry for myself, too?"

Another tear drips over the bridge of my nose, but I smile. It's not even forced. His actions and reactions . . . I mean, how did I ever live without him for so long? I think he might be more perfect than I suspected.

.

.

.

Edward meets me on the couch, delivering the cup of tea he just brewed. "Tell me what you want to do to celebrate your birthday this weekend." He curls his arm around my shoulders while I nestle into his chest. "Anything you want."

I study the ceiling fan as it whirls around. "Maybe just something easy like pizza from Riviera and a picnic on the beach."

"Boy, are you a cheap date." I pinch him while he snickers, kissing my temple.

"Just wanna spend time with you." I readjust my legs so they're stretched across his lap. "Two weeks without you sucked big time."

His lips pursed, he nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of this distance shit, either. We could always just eat in if you want. Don't feel obligated to go anywhere," he assures.

"No, I want to." I blow out a deep breath and meet his gaze. "It's silly for me to sit around and wallow. It's not like I had a miscarriage or something." Shrugging, I make sense of my emotions out loud. "I just got hung up on an idea and jumped the gun because I wanted it to be true. I'm okay . . . really."

"I get it." He finds my hand and traces the lines on my palm. "And even though we can't do much about it this weekend"—I pout, which he answers with a sexy smile—"we have our whole lives to get this baby-making done."

I cock my head, raising my brows.

"I mean . . . I realize that biology is wreaking havoc with our timetable. But know that I—unlike your ex—am ready and willing to try." He gives me a pointed but understanding look, meaning business. "Whether that includes doctor visits and exams for both of us, exploring other options, or even traveling around the world to find a baby that needs parents . . . we're gonna have a family someday, Bella. I promise you."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

" _You sound tired."_

"I am tired." I yawn, shutting off the porch light. "I stayed up till nine and we only had about two dozen trick-or-treaters, what's up with that?"

" _What? Man, kids don't know how to do this holiday like we did."_

"Seriously. We'd get changed as soon as we got home from school and be out for the next five hours straight. My parents would dole out bowls and bowls of candy."

Edward laughs _. "My pillowcase would be filled more than halfway. But our parents wouldn't let us eat anything until we got home so they could check it."_

"I remember one year my mother broke every single piece of candy in half to make sure nobody put a pin inside of it." I blow my parents kisses and walk down the hall toward my bedroom.

" _Wait, remember the year when you were only allowed to trick-or-treat for an hour?"_

"Oh, my God. That was the worst," I complain, flopping back on my bed. "I got in so much trouble for lying."

He groans, sympathetically. _"Remind me what you did again?"_

"We took a science test earlier in the week and I'd been nervous about getting the grade back, and rightfully so because I ended up with a D on it. But being honest with my parents meant they'd ground me, and I didn't want to miss out on Charlotte's birthday party or the Halloween dance that coming weekend." I shake my head. "So I adopted Char's brilliant idea of not telling my parents about the grade until Monday."

I hear his car door slam in the background. _"But why didn't it work, then?"_

"Because the guilt ate at me so badly that I ended up coming clean on Sunday afternoon. So, I still went to the dance on Friday _and_ the party on Saturday, but I almost keeled over with nervous knots by Sunday. My parents were livid when I told them."

" _You were such a good girl. Hopefully our kids will have that level of honesty."_

"Well, it's not like you were a criminal, honey."

" _No, but I love the fact that you spilled the beans without going through with the full-on devious plan."_ I hear him greet Lucy and Linus and my heart hurts, missing those pups.

"Yup, and I paid the price by only being allowed to go out for an hour for trick-or-treating that year."

" _You still ended up with a decent amount of candy though, right?"_

I think back, a little surprised at the memory. "Yeah, actually I did. Jasper had been extra generous with his peanut butter cups and Milky Ways."

Edward is quiet for a few seconds. _"Can I tell you a secret?"_

"Ye-es?" I drag out the word, eager to hear his news.

" _I counted out about twenty of your favorites and dumped them in Jazz's bag, making him promise to give them to you."_

"You what?" I sit up straight in bed.

" _I felt bad that you had to leave our group and go in early."_ He pauses and, if I had the power, I swear I'd leap through the phone to tackle him with hugs and kisses. _"You looked so pretty that day; weren't you wearing a Scarlet O'Hara costume or something?"_

I grin, shaking my head at his incredible heart. "I wasn't specifically her, just a southern belle with a fancy hoop skirt."

" _I remember."_

If this moment were animated, there'd be birds and hearts swirling above my head. "You are _so_ friggin' sweet; you always were. Should've known my brother hadn't gotten all sentimental on me and donated from his stash."

" _Well, you were worth it. Best girl I ever knew. . . still are."_

I whimper, rolling onto my side, wishing he were here. "You're getting me all mushy. Come love me."

His responding hum is so damn arousing, like the call of the wild to my ears. _"Wish I could, baby. Stuck here finishing out this rotation, though."_

"Thanksgiving can't come quickly enough."

" _Amen to that. I need you."_

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

"You two heading out for your walk?"

Dad sits in his recliner to put on his sneakers. "Yeah. Mom's cracking the whip. Plus she's gotta get home to start her baking. Where are you off to?"

"Rosalie invited me out to Alex's final soccer game—games, I guess. They've got a round robin tournament."

"For five-year-olds?"

I shake my head. "You know Emmett. The kids he's coaching'll go all the way."

"Yeah, probably. Which field?"

"Neeta to start out. Brooks if they make it to the finals, I believe. After that I'm heading to Shoprite to take care of everything we need to prep for turkey day."

"Medford Shoprite the weekend before Thanksgiving? We'll see you around midnight, then."

"Pretty much." I sigh.

Mom walks into the kitchen while I rinse out my juice cup.

"Ready?" she asks him.

"Yup." Dad kisses me on the temple. "Love you, baby girl."

I smile, glancing up as he winks with a lingering stare before turning away. Mom's thoughtful look at us morphs when she puckers her lips toward me and follows Dad out the door.

My parents are just so stinking cute together. Dad made it through his recovery like a rock star; I'm so thankful. And now they get to go out and take their walks together and just be in love.

It's how it should be.

.

.

.

When I arrive at the field, Rose is already set up with folding tent chairs and blankets. Ashleigh's cuddled up on her lap and they're sharing a thermos of hot chocolate.

"Well, don't you two look toasty?"

I glance out on the field and see Emmett doing jumping jacks with about a dozen little boys and girls. Bright yellow and black uniforms, buzzing around looking like a swarm of bumble bees.

"Hey Aunt Bella!"

"Hey sweet thing." I pop a smooch on top of Ash's head and on Rosalie's cheek. "Have I missed anything yet?"

"Nope. Just Coach Daddy psyching the kids up for their game. Have a seat." The empty chair is prepared with a throw blanket and a thermos of my own. Once I'm bundled up, I take a sip from the steaming container.

"Mmmm, thanks. Think the Stingers will be going home with some trophies today, ladies?"

Rosalie rolls her eyes jokingly. "With Coach McCarty at the helm? I'm surprised he hasn't called any college recruiters."

We settle in to watch these peanuts run up and down the field. Emmett's on the sideline, pacing and cheering the kids on. The parents are hooting and hollering, thankfully being supportive and not raving lunatics just yet. I imagine as we get further on in the tournament, the claws might come out.

The late November sun is a welcomed change. It's been pretty overcast for the last few days. We'd be miserable if it were rainy and cold. At least the sun attempts to warm our faces when it peeks out from behind the wispy cloud striations.

The game ends with our Stingers dominating three to two. The winning goal was fantastic. Scored by a little guy named Blake, who apparently hasn't been very aggressive this season, but somehow managed to kick the ball between the seven pairs of legs clustered in front of the net.

The entire sideline erupted and Blake was so stunned, he left the field to run and hug his mother; it was precious.

"Way to go, Coach." I offer Emmett a hug when he joins us to help pack the gear to head off to the next field in the rotation.

"Thanks."

"Good job, Alex!" I high-five my godson. "Ready for your next game?"

"Yeah, but I'm ready for the pizza party first!"

"Oh, is there a pizza party?" I ask.

"Yeah. I meant to tell you that," Emmett says to Rosalie and me. "Since we won the game but have a two-hour window before the next set of games kicks off, I promised the kids I'd spring for pizza."

Rose smiles, shaking her head. "Coach of the year."

"What can I say?" Emmett's dimples are still to die for, and he knows how and when to use them. "They worked hard. They deserve it."

"All right, let's do it. Where are we supposed to meet?" Rosalie says, helping Alex with his zipper.

"Well, I'm gonna lead the group to the park and get set up there. You have your hands full with the kiddos in our car." He turns toward me, asking, "Bells, do you mind picking up the pies at Riviera?"

Rosalie gives Emmett a weird look. "Hon—you told me I'd—"

Emmett cuts her off, shaking his head.

"Sure, no biggie," I pipe up. "What am I getting?"

Emmett hands me his card. "Eight pies for the team and the families. Under my name."

"Done." Turning to walk away, I add, "And I'll meet you at . . ."

"Jackson Park."

"Got it. See you in a bit." I send a wave over my shoulder.

.

.

.

After the young guy behind the counter hangs up the phone, he turns to me. "What can I get for you?"

"Hi, picking up an order for McCarty."

"McCarty." He spins, grabbing a large pizza box off the top of the oven, and passes it over. "There you go."

I narrow my eyes, confused. "Uhh, pretty sure it was for eight."

"Yeah, the guy said you'd say that, but he wanted me to give you this."

I look down and see an envelope with my name taped to the box. "Guy?"

Counter boy nods. "The one who placed the order." He steps aside and addresses the customer behind me. "What can I get for ya?"

I head out to the car, my first inclination to call Emmett, but instead I tear open the envelope.

 _Sorry about the mix up, Bells. Do me a favor and head over to the Craft Shop at Brooks Field instead. The ladies working the concession stand will help you out._

My face crinkles while I try to make sense of what's happening. On the drive, I call Emmett and Rosalie's cell phones, but they both go to voicemail . . . naturally.

.

.

.

Brooks Field is bustling with soccer players and spectators, but I manage to find a parking spot along the road. At the Craft Shop's concession window, three ladies are zipping around taking orders from patrons.

"Hi, what can I get for you?"

I give a tight smile and slide my sunglasses up onto my hair, feeling dumb because I have no idea why I'm here or if I should be asking for something specific.

"Yeah. My name's Bella Sw—"

"Oh! Hang on a sec." The older woman dips below the counter and takes out a cooler. "Gimme a minute and you'll be all set."

My gaze ping pongs around, wondering what in the world is going on. I watch the lady grab a blender and two large cups with lids. She mixes up some concoction, places the filled cups securely in the cooler, and meets me back at the window.

"Here you go!" She passes me two straws. "Have a great day!"

My jaw falls open slightly. "Do I owe you anything?"

"Nope!" she cheerfully responds, "just head over to Nokomis for your next set of instructions."

 _Instructions_? My bewildered grin causes her to chuckle and ask, "On some kind of scavenger hunt?"

I shake my head, pulling my sunglasses down onto my face again. "I didn't think so; at least I didn't plan to be . . . I'm just blindly driving around town following orders, apparently." I look around, for what, I don't know. " _Am_ I on a scavenger hunt?"

She shrugs, just as confused. "Don't know, sweetie. One of the coaches came by early this morning and asked me to do this. Said it was a favor for a friend."

Our awkwardly polite smiles must match each other's. "Well, thanks, I guess."

Back in the car, I open the cooler and examine the two drinks. Smoothies? Maybe milkshakes. And a pizza. And orders to drive to an unspecified location at Nokomis Elementary School.

Marvelous.

Of course Rosalie and Emmett still aren't answering their phones. When I pull up to a stop sign, I call Edward instead.

" _Hey, good lookin'!"_

"Hi. Whatcha doing?" I wave across the family waiting to walk over in the crosswalk.

" _Just finished checking on a patient whose case I used to consult on. What's up with you?"_

"Oh, I don't know. Just randomly meandering in town. Emmett has me on some kind of wild goose chase, and he's not answering his cell."

" _Didn't you say you were watching soccer games today?"_

"Well, I was, but then Em asked me to drive to Riv and pick up pizzas for the team. But now I'm bopping from place to place without a clue and only one pizza."

His sexy chortle makes me swoon. _"Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough. Where're you heading next?"_

"Nokomis."

" _The school or the field?"_

"Good question, but I wouldn't know!" I shout playfully. "The school's most likely closed unless there's some township thing happening, so I'll head back to the soccer field."

" _I'd try closer to the baseball field."_

I narrow my eyes. "And why would I do that? Do _you_ know where I'm supposed to be?"

" _Perhaps."_

"What? Edward, are you serious? What's going on?"

He laughs again. _"Emmett concocted this plan and he let me in on it. Maybe it has something to do with his and Rosalie's anniversary."_

"But that was almost three weeks ago!"

" _I don't know, babe. Just play along. You'll figure it out eventually. Listen, I've gotta run. The puppies are scratching at the door and need to go out."_

"Okay, go. I'll call you later. Love you."

" _Love you, too."_

.

.

.

I pull into the dirt parking lot behind the old playground, even more clueless than before. There's nobody here . . . no workers behind counters or concession windows, so now what? I sigh and run my hand around the old tire swing where Edward and I hung out all those years ago. A glimmer catches my eye in the outfield.

I walk toward it and see that it's one of those metallic-wrapped table toppers that's used to weigh down balloons or table cloths at a picnic.

Speaking of which . . .

It's sitting on top of a picnic basket with another tag hanging from the handle.

 _Bella,  
Look, just humor me. Take this basket and drive over to 57 Algonquin Trail. I promise no more running around after that. Thanks for being such a good sport. I really appreciate it.  
Emmett_

I look around the field and I'm still alone. The sun managed to burn off the remaining clouds, leaving the day brilliant and crisp, a perfect autumn afternoon. Figuring I'll continue to play along with Emmett's charade, I gather the picnic basket and wander back to the car. I look back at the outfield, realizing that the basket had been right about where Edward sat all those years ago as a kid. Plucking clover flowers and trying to avoid the silly girls at recess who were vying for his attention.

" _Who's it gonna be? Kate or Tanya?"_

 _He squints up at me, the bright sun trying to bake us right there on the playground. "You."_

I smile, lost in my priceless memories.

He was so damn cute. A cutie . . . turned hottie . . . turned mine.

It only took thirty years.

.

.

.

A minute and a half later, I arrive at Algonquin Trail. I pop out on the two hundred block and make my way down till I hit the sixties. Slowing, I find number fifty-seven on a mailbox at the foot of a circular driveway. Beyond the endless red gravel is a picturesque, modern log-cabin with impeccably manicured landscaping and stonework, which lines the front walkway and gardens.

There's a car with Jersey plates toward the other end of the drive, but I don't recognize it. No balloons or shimmering decorations alert me to another clue in my scavenger hunt, so I park, figuring I'll need to knock on the door.

Since Emmett said this is the final stop, I gather the pizza, cooler, and picnic basket and walk up to the cozy, wooded porch, ring the bell . . . and wait.

I hear a dog—dogs, in fact—barking, and I straighten up, not knowing who to expect.

Least of all my gorgeous boyfriend, who's beaming at me from the now-opened door. He's wearing a beige cable-knit sweater and dark-washed jeans. His skin is still tanned because of that year-round Arizona sun . . . and of course, those wire-rimmed glasses that capture his perfected bookishly-handsome look. My heart skips a beat, as always.

My grin matches his, times a thousand. I'm rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, tickled that Edward's managed to surprise me, yet again.

"What are you doing here?"

He huffs, that sexy crooked smirk highlighting his mood, and takes the pizza from my hands. Lucy and Linus yelp at his feet, scampering all around, desperate to scoot through his legs and make a mad dash for the great outdoors. His fingers lace through mine as he leads me through a gorgeous, open living room with a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace and into the spacious kitchen.

The pizza, cooler, and picnic basket are all placed on the counter and then he gathers me into his arms, planting a searing kiss on my mouth. Our lips pull and peck as our tongues dance together.

When we come up for air, he presses his forehead against mine.

"Hi," he whispers, gruff and desirable. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." Our mouths meet a few more times, because hell, it's been over two months since my birthday. The puppies nipping at each other and cavorting at our feet feels like a barrage of tickles. "Was this all you today?"

He nods, our heads still touching. "Guilty."

"Well, you certainly know how to keep a girl on her toes."

He steps back, his hypnotic bedroom eyes have me anxious to get to the naked part of our reunion. Lifting our clasped hands, he kisses my knuckles. "In all these decades, when have you and I _ever_ managed to be predictable?"

"Touché." I bend down to give Lucy and Linus a proper hello, complete with belly rubs and kisses. They're so stinking adorable. "Missed you guys!" I squeal, showering them with massages behind their ears.

Edward joins us on the floor and starts to wrestle with Linus. "So, did you have fun?"

"Now that I know it was you who orchestrated the whole thing? Yes, even more so. On the phone you had me believing I'd been preparing some kind of romantic rendezvous."

"You were"—he winks— "just not for Emmett and Rosalie."

"I take it they knew, too?"

"Just Emmett." Edward's mischievous smile meets the crow's feet at his eyes, making my stomach flip. "He's been plotting with me for a while."

"Plotting, huh?"

He nods and stands. "Thanks for picking up our lunch. Pizza"—he points and opens the cooler— "custom-made Shamrock Shakes, since they're out of season at McDonald's, and a picnic basket with a blanket, plates, and napkins.

"And you made me drive to all our childhood hotspots."

"That I did." He winks and jerks his head. "Let's look around before we eat." Holding clasped hands, we wander through a formal dining room, great room with a cathedral ceiling, and toward the stairs. The wood paneling, exposed logs and beams have me thinking we're in some kind of model home for an outdoorsy edition of _Better Homes and Gardens._

We meander through the second level of the empty house, peeking in and out of bedrooms, bathrooms and walk-in closets. The restored log cabin is beautiful . . . so Medford Lakes. I always envied my friends who grew up in this town and lived in these cool, rustic-looking homes.

"So, what do you think?" We stop at the bottom of the staircase.

I lift my palms and spin. "You kidding? I think it's spectacular."

"D'you want it?"

I jut my chin, my eyes tripling in size. "Do I _want_ it? Do I wanna live here?"

"Yeah."

I shake my head, waiting for the punchline. "Is that even a possibility?"

He pulls me down so that we're both sitting on the bottom step. "It is. I've been looking at houses for a while."

It's impossible to mask my incredulous look and corresponding huff. "I feel like I've missed a chapter here."

Edward takes my hands in his before responding. "When I came out to be with you in August, after your dad got sick, that week here really got me thinking. And missing this town. Missing its uniqueness. Missing the seclusion of living in the forest."

I know exactly where he's coming from. This place is a gem. Though it may've felt claustrophobic while growing up during those angst-ridden teen years, the safety and peace prevalent throughout the two square miles is incomparable, at least to anywhere I've ever visited. I love South Jersey.

He clears his throat, tightening his hold on my hands. "I think we should stay here. Make a life here . . . make babies here." He winks. "Let's come back to where it all began."

Wow. This is blowing me away, but my skepticism can't be helped. As much as I love the idea of living here, the thought of him sacrificing his comfort just for me is unbearable. "You really want to leave the life you've made in Arizona? Being in this town even seven years ago was too hard on you. Are you really okay now?"

He frames my face in his strong hands, pulling me in for a gentle kiss. Lips so warm and soft, he melts me with his touch, his kind heart. When our gazes lock again, his sincerity pierces me.

"Seven years ago I was in a very different place, Bella. Unhealthy in my head . . . unwell in my heart. But I'm a new person. I made myself into a new person over the last six years, and being back here now makes me desperate for what we had all those years ago. Medford Lakes was perfect for us growing up as kids, and I think it'll be perfect for us growing up as adults."

I look away, smiling almost shyly.

"Say yes, Bella." His hand reaches behind him and seconds later, he's holding a stunning diamond ring between us. "Tell me you want to do it. Live here, in our home town, making new memories and reliving the old ones. Tell me you'll be my best friend again . . . forever. Tell me I can be your husband, please."

He takes a deep breath, looking hopeful, still making me fall harder and harder. Is it even possible to be any more in love with him at this point?

"Bella, will you marry me?"

My glassy eyes spill the tears that've pooled over the last few seconds. I lean in, cupping my hands behind his neck. Kissing him softly first on his perfect mouth, then I dust my lips across his cheek, and then just below his ear. "Yes, Edward," I whisper before coming back to meet his dreamy eyes. "I've wanted to marry you all my life."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Thanks and hugs all around to my wonderful Team Cabana: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. They make me better. They make the world better, come to think of it. Immense thanks to all my readers and those who take the time to review. I love that you've taken this journey with me and trusted me with your hearts.**

 **xo, Jen**


	24. Chapter 24

**(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

 **EPOV**

"You sure you're up for this?" Bella questions, sitting back on the bed, propped on her outstretched arms. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

I tug my shirt over my head, adjusting it at the waist, and reach for my cologne. "I'm fine," I assure for the third time today. "Promise."

"Maybe it won't even be that busy." She looks like she's hoping a meteor crashes down the road, effectively usurping our plans for the night. "I bet lots of people will go to Ott's instead."

Sliding my glasses onto my face, I pick up my golf cap before turning to my fiancée. At the foot of the bed, I reach down to pull her into my embrace. "Hey." I push her hair behind her shoulders and lean in for a soft kiss. "Stop worrying. We're about to move back here to be permanent residents. Running into folks from school is gonna come with the territory. But it doesn't bother me. Why do _you_ seem so unnerved?"

She tips her head into my chest. "Just don't want anyone getting to you. Hurting you . . ." she trails off. I love her for her fierce heart that refuses to let those she loves get crushed. But I don't want her constantly on edge about who we'll see every time we step out our door, either.

I tighten my hug around her, my lips resting on the top of her head. When she looks up with an unsure smile, I peck her forehead and the tip of her nose. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

I tilt my head toward the door. "Let's go have fun. Night before Thanksgiving in Medford. It'll be a great time, and I have the sexiest lady on the planet walking in with me."

" _And_ leaving with you, too."

There's my girl. "Oh yes,"—I add a waggle of my brows—"let's not forget what happens after we leave." I pinch her ass for good measure and she bites her lip through a grin.

"Oh, I've got plans for you, Cullen."

Feisty and fierce and all fucking mine. "Well, let's get to it then."

.

.

.

Emmett flags us down as soon as we walk in the door of my old stomping grounds, PJ Whelihan's. Just as I suspected, it's jammed with people home to celebrate the long holiday weekend with family and friends.

"How'd you ever manage a table by the bar?" I shout over the crowd, shaking his hand. "You must've been sitting here since yesterday!"

He laughs while Rosalie waves Bella's left hand around, squealing and fawning again over the ring I gave her a few days ago. We met Em and Rose for dinner later that night after I proposed. Bella and I locked the new house, and I called the realtor saying we were ready to make a date for closing. I'd already put down a deposit hoping Bella would agree. There was no way I was going to be so presumptive to outright buy a house without her input. Thankfully, she fell in love with it after I sent her all over town on her scavenger hunt and then, to top it all off, she agreed to be my wife.

Life doesn't get much better than it is right now.

The four of us settle in, placing orders for drinks and appetizers and making the most of people-watching. Bella and Rosalie are huddled together, whispering in each other's ears from time to time. I've already spotted at least a dozen faces I recognize from high school, people in our class as well as some older and younger.

Sharon Wellington keeps staring me down from across the bar, probably trying to figure out if it's really me. When I was a junior, she asked me to her senior prom and I accepted. She'd always been nice enough to me, but Bella's gagged on more than one occasion when her name's come up. I just shrug and laugh it off. I've come to accept that Bella and I ran in different crowds. I refuse to believe that one group was ever better than another group. I never saw it that way. Bella and Rosalie can squawk all they want . . . other people might've been shallow like that, but I wasn't, and neither was Emmett.

"Oh, my GAWD, Emmett McCarty, you sexy beast. Come to me!" a female voice bellows from behind us. While Emmett widens his eyes, I almost spit out my beer, catching the look on Rosalie's face. She pops up in her chair like a prairie dog, and her left eyebrow rises to damn near two inches higher than her right. Meanwhile, Bella buries her face in her hands, stifling her laughter. The girls read each other so well; I'm pretty sure we're in for a night of them knowing what the other is thinking with just a glance and a roll of the eyes.

Emmett looks around, smiling cordially and standing, seeing his ex, Mindy Markell, come barreling toward our table.

Rosalie guzzles her margarita while Bella grabs the attention of our server, telling her we're going to need another round ASAP.

"Like a fine wine, kiddo. You make almost-forty look positively scrumptious," Mindy coos.

I can detect my friend's uncomfortable laugh in an instant. "I'm being well-taken care of," he answers, sliding his hand around his wife's. He's so smooth, even Rose sends him a wink. "Mindy, this is my wife, Rosalie."

Rose stands just as Mindy's genuine smile turns a little plastic but she soldiers through it. "Nice to meet you. Where're you from originally?"

"Right here," Rose responds kindly enough, but we all know Mindy's about to be toast.

"She was in our graduating class at Shawnee," Emmett says, hoping his wife doesn't leap across the table.

Mindy looks completely dumbfounded. "No kidding? Must've rolled with a crowd I never—"

Rosalie cocks her head, interrupting, "Cared about? Probably." She raises the last of her drink before gulping it down and taking her seat.

The nervous, toothy grin Emmett's sporting when he turns back to Mindy kills me.

"And whoa, Edward Cullen? Is that you?"

"Live and in person," I respond. She leans in for a hug, and I pat her on the back a few times, catching the stares from another cluster of familiar faces headed my way.

"Wow . . . you look really good. Like really, _really_ good. People were lying about you, man."

Emmett shakes his head while I politely nod. I'll talk to people about the alopecia if they're decent about it, but I'm not going to chew out those who dropped me from their contact lists, dogging me out behind my back for years. It's not worth it, and by the stormy look on Bella's face, it's better to gloss over it before she scratches some fool's eyes out.

Matt Jenks and Paul Lahote sidle up to Mindy, beers in hand and skeptical looks on their faces. Matt hands Mindy her martini.

"Where've you two been?" she whines. "And which one of you morons heard he was sick and dying? Yeah, he's lost his hair, but he still looks good!"

She continues to blather on as if I'm not standing next to her. Clearly she's had more than a few drinks, her couth-filter nowhere to be found.

"Why'd you disappear?" Paul asks me but doesn't wait for an answer. "Talk about vanity; Mattie here's been getting thin up top for a couple of years." The two guys trade insults while I finish my lager.

"It _is_ you!" Sharon joins the crowd, wrapping her arms around me from the side. "I don't know what happened to you all those years ago, but you look no worse for wear to me. You're Edward Cullen. Shit, you could've had a bag over your head. As long as all the important parts were working, girls would've dealt with the baldness. Why'd you seem so down about it back then?"

I chance a peek at Bella, who's about to take off her earrings and start pummeling these chicks. Before I get a chance to respond, our waitress delivers the food and the second round of drinks. "And keep 'em coming, please!" Bella barks, making me snort.

My gaze travels back to Sharon, who's reaching for my golf cap. "Seriously, you're still hot as fuck."

I lean back, not at all in the mood to be groped. "Uhhh—thanks?"

"He is, isn't he? Hot as fuck and all mine," Bella chimes in, passing me my fresh beer. "Potato skin?" She holds up the plate, and I have to chew on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

"I was just trying to be friendly," Sharon explains with a scowl. "And I didn't see a ring on his finger."

Bella snaps up her left hand. "Yeah, well, I've got one on mine; but thanks for stopping over."

Rosalie bursts out laughing, no longer threatened by Mindy, who quickly backed off when Bella started in on Sharon. Emmett has a mouthful of nachos, looking satisfied at the way things are unfolding, and I nod, pulling my chair back out to have a seat.

When Sharon has no immediate response, Bella smiles and waves. "Bye, Felicia."

Rosalie holds up her margarita for a group toast. "It's gonna be a good night!"

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 _Finally._ Seeing Bella standing on Jasper's front porch is just the remedy I need for all that's ailing me. This road trip was grueling. After spending the last few weeks packing, Jasper and Embry flew out to Scottsdale three days ago to help me move out of the house. Bella flew down to meet us here in Florida so we could pack up all her stuff from storage and bring everything to Jersey in one trip.

My head's been spinning. Graduation was the second week in December. Bella, Embry, and Liz were there cheering for me along with my parents. That same week, I put the house on the market and my realtor set up an open house. There were three offers within twenty-four hours. A bidding war broke out, and I ended up going with a buyer who gave me ten grand more than I was asking _and_ volunteered to pay all my closing costs.

Harry was sorry to see me go, but he knew I've been on borrowed time anyway. Once I got my certification and license to practice physical therapy, he knew I didn't plan to stick around and fix cars anymore.

Finding the girl I'd always loved and moving back east to start my life again at thirty-seven was just the cherry on top of finishing my grad program.

Two days of moving furniture and boxes has all of us ready to collapse, but the guys still insist on taking me out on the boat this Martin Luther King weekend for fishing and relaxing. The late-thirties version of a bachelor party is right up my alley. Trying to get the energy to bar hop and party like rock stars after the week we've just had would be impossible.

"You made it," Bella sighs, meeting me at the curb after I park the monster of a U-Haul.

I raise my eyebrow, stepping out of the car as she smirks. "There was a goal in mind."

"Please don't be referring to sex with my sister," Jasper shouts, coming around the other side of the van.

Embry gives Jazz a high-five. "My thoughts exactly."

I wave off the two jokesters. "Go find your women and leave me alone with mine." I shake my head while Bella threads her arms around my waist. "Damn, you smell good. Feel good." I squeeze her harder, the way she likes, separating my hands as one moves south to her ass and the other to the base of her neck.

She curves back, her lips meeting mine for a succession of kisses. Chaste for now. She's got that look in her eye. I know that look. I've gotten spoiled seeing it every time we're reunited after a few weeks away from each other.

"Are you sick of them yet?"

I huff. "Nahh. We're just road-weary. Having them out there to help me was a godsend. I owe them big time."

"Well, then it sounds like you earned your upcoming long weekend on the boat."

"I'll tell you it's a cruel fucking tease to have you in my arms for the next eighteen hours and then spend three days on a boat with those clowns."

"Well, we'll make the most of our eighteen hours, but then, a week from now, we'll be back in Jersey in our new house, and you get me for the rest of our lives."

Her words thrill me. I lean back to capture her soft lips. Warm, wet, and slow. This. This till the day I die. "Perfect."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 **BPOV**

"There you are," Edward says, eyes bright like he just discovered a long lost puzzle piece behind the sofa. "I was about to start playing Marco Polo to track you down. Whatcha been doing?"

"Going through these old storage tubs my parents brought over yesterday." I knock on the stack of bins. "I got bored in the master bath; figured I needed a change of pace other than checking expiration dates on prescriptions and finding space for another half-used box of NyQuil. Plus I promised myself if I finished getting our bedroom and bathroom done, I wouldn't feel guilty going to the shore for our belated Valentine's weekend."

"It'll all get done. Before or after our weekend, doesn't matter," he emphasizes. "We have a right to get away to Long Beach Island without anything hanging over our head."

I sit back against the bed, stretching my legs in front of me. "Where'd you hear of this place again?"

"Alec swears by the bar his friend owns down in Surf City. A couple of brothers run a few businesses on the island. Said they expanded again and the B&B they're opening would be kickass, so I called." He shrugs. "Got the last room available."

"You're too good to me." I sigh, all dreamy-like. If I were a cartoon character I'd have those heart eyes exploding from my sockets.

He winks, kissing the air. "Nothing's too good for you." Jerking his head, he continues, "I'm gonna run down to Riviera and grab our sandwiches. Be back in a bit."

"I'll be here." I pop the top off the next tub, assuming I'm about to uncover more sorority paraphernalia, but it's actually filled with high school memorabilia. A vat of navy and pale blue Shawnee High School programs and mementos sits at my knees.

This sucker didn't even travel with me to Atlanta when I moved in with Tyler. Even though I have a ton of great memories from high school, I associated too many of them with Edward. It just wasn't fair to me or my new marriage to drag them around.

But now . . . this discovery is almost poetic.

I chuckle, finding a shoebox with at least a dozen dusty mix tapes. Titling said mixes was always the best part. I flip through the pile, snorting at my twisted sense of humor and self-deprecation. _It Doesn't Happen Like That_ , your basic perfect love songs for perfect people compilation; ironic because I was never one of those perfect people. _Don't Let the Door Hit You_ . . . my angry mix, of course _. Being Single Couldn't Possibly Suck Any More Than it Does Today_ . . . those unbreak-my-heart ballads for when I was feeling sorry for myself. _Why Bother Shaving_ is probably my favorite, though. Its meaning is two-fold, really. On one hand, to put it bluntly, there's no need to shave your legs if nobody wants you. Then on the other hand, the songs are so gut-wrenching, beautiful, and hideous all at the same time that the mix gives you chills; and if you get chills right after you shave your legs, stubble grows back immediately and you just wasted those three minutes in the shower. So again, why bother?

Glancing around the room, I spot the old boom box Edward brought in from the workshop earlier. I decide to go for the "being single" mix. Happily, I don't have to wallow in any loneliness, but nothing will ever beat some of those hair bands from back in the day. Kip Winger and Jani Lane knew how to croon when necessary. Speaking of Jani . . . first song on the mix is "Heaven" by Warrant.

Smiling, I reach for the old yearbook insert from my senior year. These were always passed out in the last week of school because they contained late spring school sports and activities that weren't available in photos before the yearbook went to press.

I laugh out loud, staring at the ridiculous picture of me dressed as Miss Lynch from "Grease" for our all-school musical that spring. My hair is slicked back in a bun and sprayed with silver. I'm wearing cat eye-shaped glasses and the heaviest wool blazer known to man. That costume had me sweating like crazy that year under those hot stage lights.

Leafing through the pages eventually brings me to senior prom pictures from The Phoenix Room at the now-demolished Garden State Race Track. The property has since been transformed into a multi-million dollar shopping center and housing complex.

The room glistens with the gaudy mirrors on the ceiling, like some kind of porn-worthy banquet hall. I can't help giggling at the big hair-don't care attitudes of all the proud Jersey Girls, myself included. We certainly knew our Aqua Net and Stiff Stuff for those much-needed crunchy curls. The words "Never Thought" are in bold letters in the top right corner of the page. What a stupid theme for a senior prom. Granted, the song is pretty enough, but the title makes it sound like our class may have been a group of driveling idiots. _Never Thought?_ And not only that, but what did any of us really know about love at that point in our life?

Dismissing my too-logical-for-seventeen-year-olds thoughts and flipping to the next page, I spot a group shot of my fiancé surrounded by all the usual suspects from back in the day. The Sexy Six-Pack are all present and accounted for, two-thirds of them hanging off his arms. I roll my eyes but then realize, I win anyway.

Warrant's song fades into "Have You Ever Needed Someone So Bad" and I shake my head, hearing that same tune at prom all those years ago. I can almost smell the sweet vanilla scent from the fog machines near the dance floor.

Too much dancing with my girlfriends had me flushed with heat and in desperate need of some fresh air, so I headed for the balcony. My gaze lost focus while staring at all the twinkling lights around the racetrack and the skyline of Philly in the distance. Behind me, the door clicked open, the Monster Ballad blaring from the speakers, but then muffled after the door closed again.

"You look really pretty tonight," Edward called out behind me. "Did that same thing with your hair."

"What?" I touched the side of my head.

"The way you did it when you went to the eighth grade dance with Graham Martin. Same style, right?"

How he took note and remembered small things like this was beyond my comprehension . . . but he did. How was that? _Why_ was that?

"Oh, yeah. French braid. It's a little different 'cause it's tucked up underneath in the back and I teased out my bangs, but . . ." I trailed off. "Good memory." I glanced around, seeing another swarm of popular girls eye us from the far corner of the balcony. "Where's your date?"

He shrugged, staring back out to the racetrack. "Probably passed out in a corner somewhere. She and her friends shared like a dozen bottles of Asti Spumante on the limo ride over here. Where's Corning?"

"Out front practicing gazelle flips." After dating more than a year, I'm used to Ross's obsession with his skateboard. I often wonder which of us gets a final goodnight kiss after he drops me off . . . me or the board.

"He brought his skateboard to Prom?"

I sighed. "Yup."

Edward chuckled. "Well, I shouldn't talk. Ritchie brought his soccer ball and we were kicking it around on the other balcony a little while ago."

Silence fell between us when a group of mostly drunk girls stumbled by, bellowing out to Edward. He waved, but didn't leave my side. "Would you like to dance?" He sounded unsure. "Night's almost over. Didn't know if Ross would be cool with it, though."

My chest tightened, excited at the premise that I could be so close to Edward, even if it would only be for the final sixty seconds of the song. I decided not to overthink anything for once in my life and just took the moment for what it was. The corners of my mouth turned up, and I shook my head in the slightest way. "He won't care. I'd like that."

Edward stepped over to the door, opening it for me. We didn't head up the shortened staircase where the main dance floor was located. Instead, he slipped his hand in mine and pulled me into his chest just beyond the exit.

I ignored the devil on my shoulder, whispering that Edward didn't want to be seen with me on the main floor. Instead, I indulged the angel who confidently told me all his floozy groupies saw us walk in together, and he wanted me in his arms as soon as possible to enjoy the remainder of the song.

We swayed together, close, but not pressed up against each other. I refused to pretend this was something it wasn't. But I'll always be fascinated by his uncanny talent to catch me off guard, wanting to spend "us moments" together when we hadn't been an _us_ in forever.

The words of the song taunted me; I tried not to focus on Def Leppard singing about wanting someone who you just couldn't have.

Feedback from the DJ's table screeched, yanking us from our moment as we stepped back from each other. One of the students grabbed the mic, announcing senior awards were about to be called. Edward was paged immediately, too. As student council president, he was in charge of handing out the certificates and superfluous titles for inane things such as best dressed and best smile.

"Sounds like your fans are waiting."

He nodded once but his smile vanished. "Thanks for the dance. If um—if I don't see you again before finals, good luck."

"Thanks. You too."

"What?"

Raising my head from the edge of the bed, I glance around, confused. Edward stands in the doorway of our bedroom, expectantly. "Huh?"

He chuckles, leaning against the door jamb. "Were you daydreaming? I called to you a couple times but you spaced out. What were you thankful for?"

I stand, walk over to him, and fold myself into his strong frame. "This, I was thankful for this."

He tightens his hold around my back and rocks us side to side, humming. "Well, I'm happy to oblige."

"Edward Cullen, my future husband."

He buries his warm lips in my neck, laying a kiss on my collar bone. "Say it again," he whispers.

"My husband." I glance away, teasing him with a smile and all the dreams I have for our future. "How'd I get here?"

"You hopped on a plane six months ago, told me what was on your heart, and I was putty in your hands." We lock eyes for a few seconds, then his arms and chest shake with a quiet chuckle. "Nice collection of songs. We going for hair bands from back in the day?"

"Something like that. It's one of my mixes from high school for my glutton-for-punishment moods."

"A-ha. I had a few of those go-to groups. U2, INXS, REM. They all had killer songs when you felt like life sucked ass. When certain girls didn't want to be bothered with you."

He winks at my quirked brow. "At least we figured our shit out before we got old and gray," I say with a sigh.

"I prefer seasoned."

"You saying there's still some spice to be had?" I question, knowing full well we're both insatiable.

"Spice?" He thrusts his hips into mine and I giggle. "I'll show you spice, woman."

.

.

.

"All right, so what've we got here?" Edward asks, joining me on the floor of our bedroom.

"Aww, are you here to help me?"

"If this is all that's standing between you and me getting to the shore for the weekend, then hell yes, I'm helping." He smirks. "I've got plans for you, sister."

My belly flutters at the thought. "This one is all my sorority memorabilia, but this one,"—I pull the Rubbermaid tub between us—"is chock full of high school stuff."

"Well, you answered the mail on that one." He lifts off the top, grabbing my Disney World photo album from our senior class trip. "Such a girl."

I snatch it from his hands. "Hey, gimme that. Yeah, I'm a girl. And what? It makes me a girl because I bought a souvenir album to keep my pictures in?"

"You could've just done what I did."

"And what was that?"

"Developed them, looked through them once, and then tossed them in a box." Chuckling at my rolling eyes, he sits back and leafs through the pages. "I take it Corning was too cool for the happiest place on Earth?"

I snort. "That's a fair analysis. Couldn't bring the skateboard, so why bother?" The next shoebox I find is filled to the brim with notes folded into paper footballs. Some from Charlotte, most from Rosalie. A few others from random friends.

"What in the . . ." Edward trails off, holding up a Ziploc bag of withered, brown flowers. "What exactly am I looking at here?"

I click my tongue, reminiscing. "The four blooms from my carnation candy grams. I got one each Valentine's Day during high school."

"And you saved them?"

"I did."

Edward cocks his head. "You were always walking around with a dozen roses from your boy toys every year. What's up with these?"

"Boy toys, whatever." I stick my tongue out. "Yes, Brady gave me flowers freshman and sophomore years. And then Ross gave me flowers junior and senior years."

"So, where are the petals from all those dozens of roses?"

"Meh, I kept them for a while. Hung them upside down to dry out; pitched them after I broke up with each guy. These were special, though." I take the bag from him, running my fingers over the cracked and broken edges of the blooms. "It wasn't some ostentatious display of flowers, just a simple carnation with a note attached to a Hershey's kiss. _To Bella, love, me._ No extra messages or guessing games." I shrug. "It was sweet."

"To Bella, love me," he repeats, nodding and impressed. "No name, huh?"

I shake my head, putting the sandwich bag aside, and reach for my term paper on Gore Vidal. "Nope." A few more seconds pass before I start thinking out loud, brows furrowed. "Brady and Ross always denied sending them." My thoughts splinter. I glance at my fiancé, who's keeping busy on the other side of the enormous storage bin. Knowing all Edward's confessed to me about how he felt growing up, even when it seemed like we were strangers in high school—

"Lots of folks knew Bella Swan," he answers matter-of-factly, interrupting my conjured up possibilities. He's leafing through my program from "Anything Goes" but doesn't look up. "Annual Valentine's carnation and candy gram drive would've been a perfect time to reach out. Bet you had several secret admirers."

I narrow my eyes at him. Could it have been? Did he? "Edward, were—are you . . . jealous?" I panic at the end, knowing I didn't mean jealous. I'm suddenly hoping it had been him, but I'm scared to hear if it wasn't.

His drop-dead grin slays me. "Not at all." He tosses the program back in the bin. "Countless people knew how fantastic you were. Hockey star, musically inclined, quiet but outgoing with friends. I'm actually surprised you only got one anonymous candy gram each year. But . . ." —reaching over the tub, he grasps my hand in his, pulling me onto his lap— "they're too late. You're all mine now." His gaze finds mine. "Lucky _me_."

While his hands grip my waist, I move in for a lip lock. He's soft and I'm rough. Smooth caressing of mouths gives way to demanding tongues and hungry moans. I need him. Need to show him what every new revelation makes me feel.

I know— _know_ it was him.

After making out for a solid minute, grinding my hips over his, I pull away, breathless. When I focus again, he's studying me. His eyes tell the story he hasn't admitted. The tall tale I never would've believed all those years ago, which has morphed into me being on the cusp of my happily ever after. I dance my fingers over his shoulders and down his arms, clearing my throat. "Lucky _me_ , huh?"

He winks and I die a little bit more. "Lucky me."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter had to be split because with the coming wedding and all its festivities, it was becoming gargantuan. The next chapter shouldn't be too far behind since it's already half-written. The end is nigh, my sweet friends. One more chapter and an epilogue to cap it off.**

 **Thank you so much for sticking with me. Love to hear from you in reviews. Love and thanks to my Team Cabana. Hope you all enjoyed the update. Extra cool points for any of you who spotted the reference to a prior story from the Yummy arsenal. ;)**

 **xo, Jen**


	25. Chapter 25

**(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

 **EPOV**

"Got a minute for your baby cousin?"

I look up to find Alec peering from behind the door. We grip hands before he pulls me into a tight hug.

"So glad you could be here, man. I know it's a long-ass trek, hauling the wife and kids from Denver."

He pats my shoulder. "Wouldn't have missed it. How're you feeling?"

"Excited. Anxious." I shake my head, unable to erase the dopey grin I've been sporting for the last two days. "So ready." I turn back to the mirror to finish buttoning my ivory vest. Spreading my arms, I catch his stare in the mirror. "Good?"

"You'll do," he chuckles and I flip him off. "Nah, I'm glad for you, cuz. You've deserved this happiness for a long time. Longer than most."

"Stop." I wave him off, but he doesn't back down.

"I'm dead serious. We both know everything you've been through. And you _know_ I can relate. Yeah, I dealt with the hair loss a hell of a lot earlier than you had to, but it hit you at a way more crucial time, and we all knew it broke you."

I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to keep my emotions at bay. If anyone in the world aside from Embry and my parents knew what I was dealing with, it was Alec. His alopecia started in grade school. Spending that year with him after I dropped out of college kept me alive.

"At the risk of sounding condescending, considering you're my _much_ older cousin . . ."

"Watch it," I tease and he laughs.

"Honestly, I'm proud of you. You struggled through all its phases, but you picked up the pieces and made your way. Master's degree and now a wife." His brows rise. "That's huge and I'm thrilled for you. Bella's phenomenal, by the way. I had a blast getting to know her again this week. I still remember those few times when we were all kids playing in the street together." His arms cross his chest while he nods. "You two were meant to be."

Tears threaten, but I sniff and turn away. "You sound like you're close to writing a script for a Lifetime Movie of the week."

"It's an honest living."

I bust out laughing. "I appreciate the levity. I was seconds from losing my cool. But for real, thanks for being here . . . and for always having my back."

We fist bump each other and he hands me my sunglasses from the dresser. "Come on. Let's go get you married."

.

.

.

"Breakfast beer?" Jasper offers when Alec and I enter my parents' kitchen.

I reach for my iced coffee instead. "Thanks anyway. Today of all days I don't need anything helping me trip over my words," I say, huffing. "I'll save my black and tans for the reception."

A matching, tuxedo-clad Embry chugs what remains in his frosty mug and belches. "All right, campers, we should head out in the next twenty minutes. Don't want our car pulling up at the same time your lovely bride arrives. Pretty sure that'll be your first newlywed fight."

"They need to be married to be considered newlyweds, Einstein," Alec says, snorting.

"Shit. Don't put that on me. Ain't no way this best man's gonna be responsible for a called-off wedding!"

Clearly my lightweight of a brother had a few too many. The subtle roll of my eyes jumpstarts Emmett into action. "How 'bout some coffee and fresh air before we take off, Embry?" Emmett pours a large Styrofoam cup for my brother as Alec leads him out the back door to sober him up.

"Cheers," Jasper says, lifting his glass to me. He finishes off the last of his beer and clears his throat. He's got a curious look in his eyes. "Did Bella ever tell you what happened a couple days before her wedding to that asshat?"

My eyes narrow as I shake my head and pull a bar stool up to the island.

Jazz takes the seat next to me. "She and I got tanked the night I arrived in town for her nuptials. We hadn't seen each other for a couple of months. I'd been inundated with work in Florida with the boat business, and when she wasn't working in Atlanta, she spent any free time she could find up here in Jersey, planning for the wedding."

"Okay."

"Anyway, drunk and in the midst of all her nerves and shit, she pulled out a picture of the two of you as kids. The one from the Easter Egg Hunt at Nokomis back in the day."

I don't remember the shot he's talking about, but I vaguely recall several egg hunts on the school grounds when we were younger. I gesture for him to continue.

"She told me she'd run into you a couple weeks earlier. That y'all spent the night driving around town reminiscing and she couldn't get you out of her mind." He readjusts the cuff of his tuxedo shirt. "Of course we all know better now, but at the time, she figured the best thing to do was to move forward with the wedding. She handed me this picture of the two of you"—he reaches into his breast pocket, pulls out a worn photo with crinkled edges and passes it over— "asked me to get rid of it. I don't know why I didn't toss it." He stares at it before finishing his thought. "Maybe I was just hoping for today to arrive."

After taking the picture from him, I press my fingers along the edges, trying to flatten out the wrinkled corners. Within seconds, I remember this exact moment in time just from staring at the yellowed photo. We were young. Maybe second or third grade. Holding up our Easter baskets filled with plastic eggs. Bella's hair is long and stringy, some hanging in her face. She's got a big gap in her teeth where the new ones were poking through her gums. My Dutch boy haircut is thick and hanging too low so the bangs were almost touching my eyelashes. Bella and I both have enormous smiles; I instantly recall what we said to each other just before her mom snapped this picture . . .

"Look this way for the camera, kids!"

Bella zipped up her pink windbreaker, calling out, "Edward, come here and let's show our baskets. Put your arm around me."

"You sure?" I stepped closer. "Last time we hugged it embarrassed you."

She crinkled her nose. "It did?"

"Mhmm."

"Well, that was silly. Today we should hug. I'm your girlfriend, right?"

"Yeah. But even if you weren't, you'd still be my best friend. I'll always want to hug you."

"That's true. Hugs forever!" she cheered.

I stood next to her and held my basket up in my left hand and put my right around her back. She tipped her head toward mine, and it made me smile like Christmas morning, when Santa brought me my BMX bike.

"Cheese!"

Jasper's nudge against my shoulder refocuses my attention, and I tap the side of the photo against the granite countertop. "Thanks for this. Bella will be tickled to know you never pitched it."

"Well, then let's kick it up a notch." He slides a small gift bag across the counter. I dig through the tissue paper and find a double picture frame with an empty slot on the left side. On the right is the picture Rosalie snapped of Bella and me the night I proposed in November. The inscription is split into two lines. Above the pictures it reads, "No matter how long it takes . . ." and the line below continues with, " . . . true love is always worth the wait."

Jasper pops open the back of the frame and slips the older picture into its slot before turning it around to face me.

And there we are.

A boy and a girl and a relationship thirty-years in the making.

"Ready to do this, brother?" he asks, beaming.

"More than ever."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 **BPOV**

"Well, now I know this relationship was meant to be. Not only did you manage to find an opening at Cathedral of the Woods without being put on an eighteen-month waiting list, but spring has officially arrived three days early." Rose opens the window, allowing the fresh air to sweep in. "It's seventy-one degrees on March seventeenth and not a cloud in the sky!"

Giddy thoughts surround me. "My left-leaning tendencies would say that's global warming, but for now I'll go with a miracle from heaven." I fasten the delicate anklet and reach for my satin heel, chuckling. "Should I assume the reception you planned was geared toward chillier weather"?

"Assume nothing, my dear. Intimate and classy affair in the backyard of your new home on the lake." She repeats our wishes from several months ago, delivering them with a knowing look. "Just trust that your mom, Edward's mom, and I took those ideas and ran with them. I think you'll be very pleased."

The ladies wanted to keep the details of the reception a surprise. Edward and I agreed, so for the last few days, he's been staying at the Medford condo his parents bought when they heard we were moving back home. They'll be snowbirds and stay here for the spring and summer and head back to their Arizona home during the frosty Jersey winters, just like my parents do with their condo in Ocala.

"Have you heard from Emmett at all?"

Rosalie finishes reapplying her lip gloss. "Yup, he just texted. Edward is nervous and excited and wants it to be eleven o'clock already. That boy needs to make you his, like, yesterday."

"Ready, kiddo?" Dad pops his head in the doorway. "Car just pulled up."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE MARRYING EDWARD CULLEN!"

Dad's mouth falls open at Rosalie's outburst while I squeal.

"Sorry." She shrugs. "Had to put another reality check out there."

"I get it. You'd be surprised how often I do it, too."

"All right, you screaming Mimis, time to hit the road." Dad walks away, calling for Mom.

I try to exhale the butterflies that've taken over, and turn toward the full-length mirror. My hands move along the angled ruching at my waist. Not getting pregnant yet certainly has its upside. If I had any kind of protruding belly, I couldn't wear this mermaid-style dress. The crystal and silver beading on the bodice radiates enough glitz that I don't need to wear a necklace. I go for graduated diamond teardrop earrings instead; they're a perfect compliment.

"You're beyond stunning. Edward's gonna flip," Rosalie says, holding open my ivory gown's coordinating, long-sleeved shrug. "This ruffled collar is badass. Promise me you'll get a few professional pics taken wearing this before you go strapless for the rest of the day."

"Promise." I slide my arms through the sleeves and sigh. This is it. I can't believe our day has finally arrived and come together seamlessly. I still feel like I'm living a fantasy. "So, seriously. Am I ever gonna stop pinching myself that I'm with Edward?"

Rose hands me my bouquet of white rosebuds and carnations, all dipped with green edges to celebrate our Saint Patrick's Day wedding, complete with Shamrock Shakes. "Maybe you never will. Why should you? Your dream's finally come true." My eyes water at her words. "And seeing the way Edward always looks at you? I guarantee he'll be pinching himself every day till kingdom come."

.

.

.

A half-hour later, my brother kisses me on the cheek before escorting Mom down the aisle. Rose winks her twinkling blue eye and follows.

"Ready?" Dad asks.

I slip my arm around his. "For a while, now."

Sixty-five pairs of eyes watch while Dad and I take our place in the doorway. A grand piano and a cello weave a harmony that has me swallowing back tears. Music moves me so deeply; I'm a sucker for it, always have been. The crescendos and quiet nuances light our path and almost make me run toward the man who's my future.

My dapper fiancé—in his black tuxedo, ivory vest and tie—takes my breath away. Edward's smile is entrancing; it's the same one he's been giving me since I nervously knocked on his door seven months ago.

Like it's all for me and only _ever_ been for me. Could that be possible?

I don't know, but I pray I'm reflecting that same elated glow, capturing all the hope, promise, and gratitude I'm feeling and have been experiencing ever since Edward and I found ourselves in each other's arms last summer.

Dad kisses my cheek and places my hand in Edward's. "Take care of her, son."

"I will, sir."

My stomach joined Cirque du Soleil about three minutes ago, and now I feel like I'm in the spotlight on the high wire.

Edward's gaze travels from my eyes, down my body and back to my face. His shoulders sink with his sigh, and he squeezes my hands. His thumbs nervously trace my knuckles. "Thank you," he whispers as the music comes to an end.

I can't stop beaming, completely baffled and thrilled I'm standing in this place and time. "For what?"

He shakes his head, as if his thoughts were in the clouds. "For saying yes. For being here." He searches for his next thought. "For making this the best day of my life."

"Our day's only getting started."

"I know. I just trust what lies ahead will only be better."

My eyes pool with tears before he finishes his sentence.

The minister welcomes us, reading from the Bible, messages speaking of love and friendship and commitment and kindness. It's beautiful and poetic but all I see, all I hear, all I know in this moment is my life is about to be tied to this man, my dream come true.

The congregation snickers and I'm startled out of my daydreams when I realize it's my turn to speak. Edward and I agreed several weeks ago that we each would say a little something to the other before the minister led us in traditional vows.

I memorized mine, swearing up and down I wouldn't need to write anything on paper. I want to regret my decision right now, but the look of sheer dedication and love in Edward's eyes bolsters me to remember my words.

"Sometimes you fall asleep and have amazing dreams. Dreams where everything you never expected but always secretly longed for _finally_ come true. And it's _awesome_. And you feel like you're on top of the world and nothing can possibly ever beat that feeling." I pause, exhaling a deep breath. "And then you wake up. And you look around and realize it was never real. It was all in your imagination. And that part really hurts, you know?"

I clear my throat and speak up in confidence. "Edward, seven months ago I fell asleep, and I haven't woken up from this dream. Why would I possibly want to? It's all happening. What I've always wanted; what I've always wished for but knew was _never_ in my grasp has come true." I swallow my escaping sob, and he nods encouragingly. "But then I take a crazy leap of faith, open my eyes and realize, I'm actually awake."

"Yeah, you are!" Rosalie cheers and we burst into laughter.

Once everyone settles, I continue. "I'm awake and you're right here with me. My best friend from all those years ago wants to be with me forever. I don't think life gets any better than this."

His head shakes subtly, that captivating crooked grin making me swoon even harder. Like the words I'm delivering are a symphony only he can cherish and appreciate.

I dab my knuckle in the corner of my eye before going on. "Thirty years ago you walked up to me on the playground just down the road and gave me a ring." The cathedral carries the "awws" and sniffles from the crowd. "I remember it like it happened yesterday. The ring was so beautiful. I loved watching it sparkle; couldn't wait to show my mom. But when I did, she made me give it back, and I was devastated.

"I'm here today to say I'm not giving this one back. This one's mine forever. These rings, this life, this moment is ours. Edward, I've _never_ loved anyone like I loved you and still do, even more so. Thank you for making my wildest dreams come true." When a tear spills down my cheek, Edward dusts his thumb under my eye, as he's done so many times before. Small gestures like that mean the world to me.

His look of devotion levels me in the best way. I never thought it possible that he could ever care about me as much as I care for him. When I nod, the minister steps in and I repeat the remaining promises to love, honor, and cherish this man, my husband, and then it's his turn.

Edward's Adam's apple slides slowly under his collar before he readjusts his stance and starts. "You stole my line about giving you a ring so many years ago, but I'm going for it anyway." The crowd chuckles before he speaks up again. "I know we were only six years old, but I suppose I knew even then. Nothing would ever be as good as you, Bella. Nobody would _ever_ be better than you. And we had such a ball as kids, running around the neighborhood together with our little brothers. Playing Flashlight Tag or Ghost in the Graveyard till our moms said we couldn't stay out another minute. Riding our bikes to school every day. Fishing on the lake, ice skating when it was cold enough. Even rescuing Jasper when he fell through that one time."

I giggle, joining the reanimated crowd looking over at my brother who's standing behind Embry at the altar. He's just chuckling, shaking his head at the very brisk memory from the early 80's. "And even though our teenage years had us drifting apart, you were never far from my thoughts or my heart. Letting you out of my sight was probably one of the hardest things I ever did. Thank God for twists of fate, or should I say twists of knees." He tips his head toward Embry. "A torn ACL somehow brought our worlds back together . . . the universe works in funny ways."

Edward squeezes my hands, taking another deep breath. "It might've been easier if we'd stayed close all those years ago, but it wasn't meant for us. Short and sweet courtships are fine; falling in love immediately and knowing it's right is great when it happens for some people. But for us" –he shakes his head, his gaze studying mine— "no. _Our_ story, the love story of Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan was always meant to be a long one. The kind where we come together, fall away, and then find each other all over again. It wasn't easy, but the best things in life never are."

He swipes his thumb across my wet cheek again.

"It's okay that at thirty-seven our new chapter is just beginning, because we know we're together forever now. There won't be any more interludes. We get to walk off into our happily ever after sunset." He pauses, taking in a shuddery breath, his eyes glistening. "But I'm gonna say instead that it's our happily ever after sunrise. We're just beginning again. And I can't wait to watch the rest of our story unfold. I have _always_ loved you, Isabella Cullen—" He turns, raising his brow at the minister. "Wait, can I call her that yet?"

Reverend Michaels dips his head, his palm moving from me to Edward. "She's all yours."

Edward widens his eyes, his smile almost tripling in size. "Mine. It's always been you, Bella. Thank you for coming to find me last summer. I promise to make the rest of your summers, winters, springs, and falls filled with the best times and my deepest love. And even when it's not easy, it'll be easier because I'm still gonna be holding your hand."

Random sniffles and sighs come from the pews. Edward and I slip white gold bands on each other's fingers and say the Lord's Prayer. When we light a candle, our two flames finally come together.

And after a tender kiss, which holds all the promise of our pledged words, we belong to each other.

.

.

.

I didn't think it possible, but our backyard has transformed into an elegant wonderland. It's woodsy like our hometown while being chic and sophisticated in its decor. They erected an enormous white tent, meant originally to keep us warm just in case the temperature dipped. The middle of the afternoon still covers us in a cloudless blue sky while a warm breeze blows, so the sides were removed in order to enjoy the view of the lake and the new pergola on our dock.

Inside the tent, sashes in multiple shades of white, cream and green billow across the beams and awning. Spherical paper lanterns with dimmed lights decorate the ceiling even though the daylight is doing a fine job so far. The round tables are donned with green linen napkins, cream-colored tablecloths and a framed picture of a spot or landmark in Medford that holds meaning for Edward and me.

It's exactly what I would've wanted had I planned it myself. It speaks to our childhood and our hopes for the future. My smile matches Edward's . . . he was right. This day just keeps getting better.

"Folks, if I could have your attention for a minute." Embry stands next to the sweetheart table where Edward and I are seated. "Edward, Bella . . . I'm certain I don't have any stories or anecdotes that could top the words you exchanged with each other earlier, so I'll just say this. There's a light in my brother's eyes that wasn't there a year ago. It hasn't been there for a long time. I don't know how observant I could've been as a pesky little brother all those years ago, when we were kids playing in the neighborhood together, but I'm sure that same sparkle was there back then, too." I can feel myself getting choked up again while my husband reaches for my hand. "I'd tear up my joints a million times over if I knew it could help reignite a flame that was never meant to die. Bella, you brought my brother back to life." Embry pauses, staring at us with his glassy eyes. "Time for you to go grab the happiness you deserve. Love you both. Ladies and gentlemen . . ." he leads the crowd, raising his champagne flute filled with Shamrock Shake, "to Bella and Edward, many blessings and much love. Sláinte!"

.

.

.

After Edward and I finish our meal, catered by Tarantella's, our favorite Italian restaurant, he takes my hand and spins me onto the dance floor.

"Do you think people will think we're weird dancing to 'Oh Sherrie' as our wedding song?" I ask, tucking my face toward his neck when he pulls me against his body.

"Who cares? The only people who matter here are you and me. We know what this song means, and that's all that counts."

I hum, enjoying our closeness until it's time to mix it up. The song is fast enough that we don't stay swaying for long. Instead we circle each other, him twirling me and then tugging me in close. We laugh our way through it, having too much fun to care that we're the only ones on the dance floor. When the song ends, the crowd erupts in cheers, clapping and shouting for an encore performance.

It's an afternoon filled with tears of joy and laughter and reminiscing over the best times we shared growing up. We call the Tuckerton Tribe to the dock on the lake and have a ball posing for pictures together. Embry, Jasper, James, Edward and me. The best shot is the one the photographer gets of the four guys holding me in their arms. After a few shots, we open up the picture to the wives and girlfriends and even James's little guy, Jameson, too.

Then and now. Best family portrait ever.

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 **EPOV**

By seven o'clock, we say goodbye to all of our guests and leave our parents and friends in charge of supervising the clean-up. Right now I have plans for my bride.

"How much longer?" Bella whines, but in a cute way. "Staring at you all afternoon in that vest and tuxedo pants was torture."

"Well damn, if I'd known that, I would've kept them on instead of changing into jeans and button-down." I wink, making the turn onto Bridge Street in Lambertville. "Almost there."

"I haven't been up here in decades. Went to that pizza place on the corner freshman year when our cast competed at the playhouse." She sits up straighter in the passenger seat. "Wait, 'almost there' . . . are we staying in New Hope?"

"I figured it was a good choice to get away for the long weekend since we can't go on our real honeymoon till summer."

"It's perfect!" she shouts, clapping and leaning in to plant a few kisses on my cheek. "So many memories here from my high school musicals."

A couple minutes later I park at the Fox and Hound Bed and Breakfast. After checking in, we follow the proprietor to a second-floor bedroom with a king bed and fireplace already warming the room. Though the temperature remained in the low seventies for most of the day, we're an hour north now, and it's dipping into the forties tonight.

Bella steps out onto the balcony to enjoy the view of the purple and pink streaks across the sky as the sun continues its descent. I thank the lady who reminds me breakfast is served until ten, but I don't know that either of us will care to make a mad dash downstairs to eat and socialize.

We're both beyond wiped out after the festivities, but this is our wedding night and we'll never get it back.

Joining my wife on the balcony, I step up behind her, caging her in with my arms next to hers on the railing. I gently dust my lips against the warmth of her neck.

"Enjoying the view, Mrs. Cullen?"

"I am."

"So was I, but I couldn't wait any longer."

She hums at my response, turning in my arms. Her eyes focus on mine while her gaze transitions from jovial to sincere. "This has been the best day of my life." When she presses her petal-soft lips against mine, my arms instinctively wrap around her body. Our kiss lingers, promising of the passionate night ahead.

"Never dreamt it was possible, you and I together." My voice is gruff with desire as we step back inside our suite. "But here we are."

"Married," she responds, her fingers lowering the dimmer switch on the wall.

"Forever. I have a confession to make,"—I pause, shaking my head, just soaking in her beauty— "I'd love to see you in one of those little numbers you packed, but I don't think I can wait that long."

She quirks a brow, unbuttoning her blouse, approaching me like a cat burglar eyeing a jewelry case. "Anxious?"

"Nah," I whisper, pulling her into my arms. "Just in love and ready to spend forever showing you how much."

Another kiss starts out slowly but grows feverish until she pulls back. "No little numbers, then."

Clothes fall away and we're even more free than we've been until now. All the fear, all the pain, all the doubt we had in ourselves and in each other over the years has completely vanished. It's us now. Only us. Finally. Where we always belonged.

My lips trail down her chest and belly before settling my mouth between her thighs. She's sweet, soft and wet. I stroke her with my tongue over and over until she tips over the edge. Her cries and quivers have me smiling in satisfaction, but it's only because I know I'm putty in her hands—and mouth— just as easily.

"Edward . . . please." My hands grip the outside of her legs, not ready to relent even though she's begging through her stammers. "I can't . . . c—can't . . ."

When I finally tear myself away, she's sighing in relief and I chuckle. "Not done quite yet, baby." I get up on my knees, pulling her toward me. While she wraps her legs around the back of my thighs, I push into my wife.

My _wife_. This woman is finally my wife.

Though I started with vigor and a pace driven by the thrill of knowing she belongs to me, I slow my strokes and lower myself down so I can kiss her relentlessly. Her warmth surrounds me everywhere, my body, my mind, my heart. My hands find hers and we thread our fingers together while our bodies thrust and writhe against each other, chasing our climaxes until we're almost breathless.

"You falling asleep on me already?" she asks moments later through a yawn, tickling her fingers over my ribs.

I tighten my grip around her back as she settles into my arms. "Maybe, but only because I know I'm about to get the best sleep of my life. I can't wait to wake up next to you tomorrow." I kiss her forehead. "All of our tomorrows."

"Boy, are you lucky you're a smooth talker." She nibbles my shoulder and tucks her face against my chest. "Sweet dreams, hubby of mine. I love you."

"Love you." I don't know how long it takes me to drift off, but I find myself grinning again, watching the childhood memory unfold before me.

"Hi, Bella."

Looking up from making her mud pie, she waved. "Hi." There were already four sassafras leaves with drying mud caked on them. She told me she'd be starting a bakery on the playground with Charlotte this week.

"Your hands are all dirty," I said, sitting next to her on the blacktop.

"Oh, it's not too bad." She dunked her hands in the rain puddle next to her and rinsed them. "See? And look, I even took some extra napkins from the lunchroom."

"I wanted to show you something." I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the shiny ring I found on my mom's dresser this morning. "It's for you."

"Wow. It's pretty." She took it and held it on her lap. "It even matches my dress! Thanks."

I crossed my legs and scooted a little closer. "It's so you can marry me."

"Okay." She passed me a leaf to get started on my own mud pie. "I'll marry you." She slipped the ring on her finger, but it flopped around and we laughed. "I don't want to lose it. I'll keep it in my jewelry box at home. It has a ballerina that twirls to music whenever I open it."

"Cool." I dug my fingers in the wet sand and started smoothing it on the leaf.

"Oh, I have another Starburst in my lunchbox I didn't eat, want it?" She handed me the orange-wrapped candy. "Mommy lets me pack one piece of Halloween candy for lunch, but she let me choose three Starburst squares today since they're smaller than the fun size chocolate bars."

"And you probably wouldn't share your Milky Ways since they're your favorite."

"Oh, I'd share them with you, Edward."

I passed her my mud pie and she stretched over to the spot where the other ones were drying. She made me smile when she said she'd share her favorite candy bar. I'm so glad Bella's my best friend. We have fun together every day. "I think I'm gonna like being married to you."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: Epilogue is underway. Thank you to Team Cabana: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo for all of their comments, corrections, ideas, and cheers. They make my life a little easier and my world a lot better.**

 **To my readers, thank you for your dedication, your patience when updates came less frequently, and for leaving me your thoughts, theories, and feelings along the way. This has been another special journey for me, and I've loved sharing it with all of you.**

 **Much love and peace to you.**

 **xo, Jen**


	26. Epilogue

**(+)(+)(+)Far Away Flame(+)(+)(+)**

 **BPOV**

"We need to get up."

Edward's mouth skims across my back as he grazes his hand down my arm. "No, we don't. This cabin is so damn comfortable. Just tell Jasper to turn around and head for an island. Embry and Liz can hang onto the baby girl for a few more days."

"I miss her."

"I miss her, too. But we needed this."

"We did," I concede, shivering under his gentle touch. The subtle rock of the yacht means we've not yet docked back in Panama City. This past week with Jasper and Alice on the boat has been so relaxing, and completely necessary like my hubby said.

"We'll go back to one hundred percent responsibility in a few hours." His warm hand slides along my thigh before he pulls it over his leg. "But let's enjoy this us-time till the last possible minute."

His fingers find me wet and wanting and I hum in anticipation.

"See, that didn't take much convincing."

My breathy giggle can't be helped. "When has it ever?"

He adjusts his hips, pulling me into his body. It's his turn to hum after he slides inside. A sexy, unhurried pace of thrusting and rubbing leads to mutual sighs and moans. When he wraps his arm around me to thread our fingers together, I circle my hips, knowing it drives him wild.

"Mmmm, my wife." He draws his hand down my stomach to tease and torture me until I can't hold on any longer.

I clench around him, hoping to bring him with me as I freefall into orgasm. He responds with a low growl and a few long strokes.

 _There he is_.

We catch our breath, his strong arms still enveloping me while I turn toward him. "Morning," I whisper in between kisses. "Who needs caffeine when you can wake up like this?"

He nods, kisses me again, and flops back with an enormous grin. "Now we can get the day started."

 **(+)(+)(+) Far Away Flame (+)(+)(+)**

"There's my monkey!"

"Daddy!" Karis yells while barreling across the grass toward us. "Mommy!" Edward scoops her up, twirling them around as the crowd gives us room for our happy reunion. "I missed you guys so much!"

After a few more squeezes, Edward passes her into my arms. "We missed you so much! Did you have a fun week with Uncle Embry and Aunt Liz?"

"Uh huh, and Uncle Em said I'm not allowed to leave because I'm the best helper for Norah and Nolan. Especially with diapers."

"Diaper duty, huh?" Edward asks, laughing and pointing toward a waving Embry. "Well, I'll see if I can negotiate your release, kiddo. We have to get you home. School starts in two weeks, you know."

"Did my _Bubble Guppies_ backpack come in the mail yet?"

"I don't know. We made sure it was shipped to Gram and Papa's house while we were all on vacation. When we get home tomorrow night, we'll ask."

"'Kay."

The three of us approach the blanket and umbrella where Liz is set up, safely away from flying soccer balls. Embry is further away on the sideline, holding his infant daughter in one arm while talking animatedly to several little boys in soccer jerseys.

"Hey, you two." Liz stands to greet us, readjusting a fussy Nolan on her shoulder. "How was Florida?"

"Fantastic," Edward responds and reaches for his godson. "C'mere little man. Let's talk." My hubby pecks my cheek and walks across the field toward his brother.

"Mommy, can I go back to the game with Daddy and Nolan?"

I crouch down and tug on her shorts. "I need four kisses first."

She giggles and makes her fishie lips, leaning in, ready to count. "One," _kiss,_ "two," _kiss_ , "three," _kiss,_ "four," _kiss,_ "and one for good luck," _kiss_.

"Thank you." I wink at her, patting her tush. "Go, have fun."

The late morning sun is already attacking my skin, which I didn't cover in lotion this morning, so I head for my sister-in-law's welcoming shady set-up.

"So, how are you, Momma?" I ask Liz, getting comfortable on the blanket next to her.

"Oh, we're hanging in there. Double the fun, double the drama, I suppose." Her smile is weary but genuine. "They're really good babies, though. I'm just thankful we're not dealing with colic or anything."

"I hope it wasn't too much keeping Karis with you all week."

"Oh, my God, are you kidding?" Liz makes a face. "That child is an angel. I hope she told you Embry and I aren't letting her leave. She's like the baby whisperer to the twins. Whenever they get moody, she snaps them right out of it. She's got the magic touch. Definitely meant to be a big sister."

I smile, my gaze turning toward my daughter running on the soccer field. "We're working on it."

"Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing yet. We're at the top of the list, completed our home study, gone to our meetings . . . now we wait."

"How's Edward feeling about it?" She passes me her package of Twizzlers and I peel off two.

"He's more than ready." I sigh, grievous thoughts from years ago bubbling to the surface. "Losing the baby two years ago was awful for both of us, I mean, you remember." Liz nods, looking down at her lap just as I clear my throat. "But he was my rock then and our constant cheerleader the whole way through this process. Doesn't matter to him how another child or children come to us, just as long as they come." I chuckle and point at our husbands, treating the four-month-old twins like foosball figurines, while the babies' little chicken legs bat at the soccer ball between them. "Those two were meant to be daddies."

"They were." Liz leans back on her hands, tipping her head up. "Ugh, I'm zonked. I need my bed."

"How much longer do you need to stay?"

"Em has to stay till the end since he's the coordinator. They end by one 'cause it's so friggin' hot."

"And those are his college players coaching out there?"

"Yup. Two different guys for each skill level from preschool through eighth grade. He's been doing this every summer as a part of a community outreach."

"Edward was telling me. Embry's got such a good heart. He's definitely used his notoriety and talent for good ever since retiring."

"Yeah, he's a keeper." She yawns. "Now if I could just convince him it's okay to let the babies cry it out every once in a while, we'd be golden."

I snort. "Spoiling them?"

"Rotten."

"Well, listen, why don't you take off and get some rest." I nudge her shoulder. "Edward and I can help Embry with the babies."

"Really?" She looks about ten percent skeptical and ninety elated.

"Yes, of course. Go take a nap, and I'll cover dinner tonight. You deserve it after taking care of my little one this week along with your brood."

She squeals, wrapping her arms around me. "Tell my hubby and babies I love them. Love you, too!"

A cloud of dust arises after she takes off, and I stand to head over to where Karis is kicking penalty shots with a group of young girls and their two coaches.

"Bella?" I hear my name and whip around, knowing it wasn't Edward or Embry who called out to me. "Hey."

My eyes bug out, focusing on my ex-husband as he steps toward me. He's still handsome, but the last seven years have yielded some wrinkles and many grays. After Tyler asks again how I'm doing, I force myself to speak.

"Hey. Uhh, I'm well, really well. What are you doing here?"

He smirks. "I was just about to ask you the same thing." He points out to center field where a group of young girls are practicing dribbling. "My girls have been at the soccer clinic all week. Pink jerseys with my name."

My stare follows his direction and I spot two platinum blondes with my former last name on the backs of their shirts. They both have long ponytails with pink bows on top, and their skills have them looking like they're ready to try out for a varsity squad.

"Monroe numbers one and two, huh?"

A look of pride crosses his face. "Yup. Paige and Kenna."

"They're beautiful."

"Thank you."

A few seconds of awkward silence pass before Tyler clears his throat. "So, what brings you out to Emory University's soccer clinic?"

"My brother-in-law is the head coach; he runs it."

I can tell he's taken aback, but he attempts to recover. "Your brother-in-law is Embry Cullen?"

"Mhmm. My husband and I are just passing through and picking up our daughter before we head home."

He smiles thoughtfully. "Where's home these days?"

"Jersey. Where he and I grew up."

"That's good"—he nods— "great, I mean. And you said you have a little girl?"

Before I get a chance to answer, Karis comes tearing across the field, waving her arms. "Did you see, Momma? I got a goal!"

I cup my hands around my mouth to shout. "I saw, baby!"

Karis whirls around. "Daddy, didja see?"

Tyler and I both turn to see Edward, who's running out to the field from the opposite direction. He's got Nolan in one arm and picks Karis up in the other and spins them around.

"I saw you, monkey; way to go!" He puts her down and smacks a kiss on her forehead. "Now go do it again!"

My gaze follows Karis as she runs back to the goal post where her coach is waiting to give her a high five. "And you have another baby as well?" Tyler asks, clearly focused on my husband.

"Oh, no. That's our nephew." I watch Edward step up to Embry who hands over Norah, and now my hubby is cradling two infants in his chiseled, tan arms. There's nothing sexier, but I force myself to look back to Tyler. "How's Bree?"

"She's fine." He shrugs. "We split before she even had the girls, though."

There's a sliver of me that finds satisfaction hearing they're not together, but I don't dwell on it. Yes, I moved past all the shit he did to me years ago, but I'm still human.

A whistle blows near us and a few seconds later, we're joined by his twin daughters. "Nice job, girls. Having fun?" he asks, handing them water bottles. Tyler mouths their names to me as he points to each of them.

"Yeah. Wish Mommy was here to watch, though," Paige says between pants and gulps of water. "She never comes to our soccer stuff."

Kenna waves her off. "Eh, forget her. She's on vacation with Rick—"

"Isn't it Doug?" The other interrupts before chugging again.

"Who knows, but Daddy's here." Kenna high-fives Tyler who doesn't respond to their back and forth.

"C'mere," Tyler says, crouching down. "And I always will be." He squeezes both of their shoulders. "Take another sip of water and head back out. Looks like your coach is ready for you again."

"Who are you?" Paige directs toward me.

Before I get a chance to respond, Tyler answers her. "That's Bella. We uhh— we used to be friends before you girls were born."

"'Kay, see ya!" Kenna shouts, grabbing her sister's arm before they head back to the field.

Tyler chuckles uncomfortably. "Wow, that was easier than I thought it would be. They usually hit me with twenty questions over the simplest things."

I huff, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Sounds about right. Karis is always—"

"Hey, beautiful. Can you take Nolan so I can work with baby girl? Em has Norah."

"Sure." I lift my snoozing nephew out of Edward's instantly-stiffened embrace. Of course he recognizes my ex. He's staring stone-faced at Tyler, probably wondering what alternate universe we've all stepped into.

"Everything okay?" he asks, catching my gaze. His jaw is tense while he slides his hand around my lower back.

Stretching up to reach his lips, I kiss him softly to reassure. "It's fine. Promise." I give him another peck. "Go get her."

He nods and steps back, sending another death glare to Tyler before jogging off toward the goal where Karis is practicing.

A couple of seconds pass. "Was that . . . wait, from Emmett's wedding?" Tyler questions wide-eyed.

I laugh, turning my nephew so he's covered by shade. "Yeah, it is. You shoulda been there when I had to explain to him about _you_." I shake my head, thinking over the craziness of our collective pasts. How things worked out. How things didn't.

"I'm sorry about it all," he says softly, shaking his head.

"I'm not." I gesture toward the field. "Everything worked out the way it was supposed to, don't you think?"

Tyler stares at his daughters, while I watch my husband kick the soccer ball around. Edward's still so talented and athletic at forty-three. He loves me and our daughter with all his heart and has doted on her since the moment we read that positive pregnancy test result together in our bedroom all those years ago.

"Yeah, maybe it did."

I sway back and forth, placing butterfly kisses on Nolan's peach fuzz. "I'll see ya, Tyler," I add with a grin and a step back.

"Take care, Bella."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

 **EPOV**

"Karis Grace Cullen! First day of kindergarten is waiting for you, baby girl!"

"I'm right here, Daddy."

I spin around to find my daughter sitting at the kitchen table, eating her mini muffins. She's swinging her legs back and forth, dusting them along the floor since she can't touch yet. When she waves at me, I chuckle and pull a seat up next to her.

"You're adorable." I poke her nose. "Finish this last muffin and go brush those teeth, okay? We have to leave in ten minutes."

"Is Mommy ready?"

"Almost. Miss Carolyn called her and they're still on the phone."

Karis gasps. "Does she have a brother or sister for me yet?"

"I'm not sure. But we'll be ready for a brother or sister when she says it's time, right?"

"Yes. I'll have a lot to teach them. I better get ready."

"Well, what if it's a brother or sister who's older than you are?"

She crinkles her face, trying to figure out how in her five-year-old mind that would work. "Ummm . . ."

"Tell ya what, we'll talk about it after school."

Bella walks into the kitchen, slides her phone onto the counter, and turns to Karis. "Ready, kiddo?"

"She's just going to brush those teeth, Mommy." I pull my daughter's chair out from the table.

"Make sure there's toothpaste on the brush this time!"

"Yes, Momma."

"So, anything?" I ask watching Karis bound down the hall.

Bellas brows rise and fall. "Maybe. She wanted to give us a heads up, but she didn't want to make any promises."

"Same brother and sister we heard about before?" I reach my hand for her and she folds herself into me, nodding. "Well, that's something." I breathe in deeply, inhaling her comforting scent and rubbing her back.

"It is."

We stand there quietly in each other's arms. Millions of thoughts and prayers rushing through our minds, wondering if this time will be the time it works out. A few minutes later Karis reappears, mouth wide open, waiting for us to inspect her pearly whites.

"Ding," she says, as if symbolizing a diamond glistening on her teeth.

I chuckle. "Looks good, baby." I jerk my head toward the front door. "Let's do this."

.

.

.

"You excited?" Bella asks our daughter as we pedal down the street.

"Yeah. I hope I can sit with Finn."

"Well, even if you can't sit near him in class, you can always play together on the playground at recess."

I glance over at my wife who smiles back. "That's when Mommy and I got to hang out when we were little. She was only in my class three times in our eight years at Nokomis and Neeta. Recess was our playtime."

"I guess," Karis says, pushing hard on her pedal to make it up the small hill.

"Careful of the sand patch, Mommy." I point out the pitfall, coming up on our right.

"Hardy har har. I'm a much better bicycle rider now than when I was younger."

Who does she think she's kidding? "I seem to remember lots of scraped up knees and elbows. Not to mention ripped stockings. How did you always manage to take a spill on class picture day?"

Bella laughs out loud. "Just a gift, I suppose."

"Will you guys always ride your bikes with me to school?" Karis pipes up in her squeaky voice.

"We'll definitely ride with you for this year. Mommy and I will take turns, okay?"

She whines but I send her a pointed look. "But what if I wanna ride with my friends?"

"Well, if you meet your friends somewhere along the way, maybe we can talk about it then. But for now, we want to make sure you know the path to take. You've never done this on your own. You'll have lots of years to be a big girl and ride by yourself. Deal?"

"Okay, Daddy."

After the crossing guard sees us safely over to the school property, the three of us walk our bikes toward the familiar, forty-year-old metal rack where Karis lines her pink and purple Huffy up next to all the other miniature bicycles. She threads her helmet onto her handlebars, rubs her hands over her brown wispy curls, and walks back to Bella and me.

"You have a super day, sweet girl." Bella kneels to shower her with numerous kisses all over her face and hugs her until Karis lets go. "I love you, baby."

"Love you too, Momma." She turns to me, reaching up. "Bye, Daddy."

I give her a peck on her puckered lips and tickle her side with a squeeze. "You be the best kindergartener you can be, okay? Lots of smiles and lots of hard work and listening."

"I will. Are you gonna be here when I'm all done?"

I put her down to loop her backpack over her shoulders. "Mommy and I will be right here when the bell rings. Promise."

"'Kay."

A little blonde-haired bullet shoots in front of us. "Hi, Karis." Finn skids to her side. "Check out my Ninja Turtles backpack!"

Bella grabs my hand, sending me a knowing smirk. Finn has been Karis's best buddy since they met two years ago in preschool. When they're not together, he's all she talks about.

"I like it. Look, mine's _Bubble Guppies_." She turns around to show him.

"Oh, I got something for you," he adds, reaching into his pocket.

My wife squeezes my fingers; I know what she's thinking. We inch closer to peer into his little hand.

"It's a seashell from the beach. It has pink streaks in it, see?" He holds it up for her. "I know your favorite color is pink so I brought it home for you."

I huff while Bella turns her face into my shoulder with an "Awww."

"Thanks, Finn! I'm gonna keep it in my jewelry box with the spinning ballerina. It'll be safe in there."

The bell rings, ending their cute exchange. Finn runs off to say a final goodbye to his mom while Karis turns to blow us both kisses.

We wave and call out our "I love yous," staying till the teacher opens her back door, inviting the line of kids to enter.

When I turn to my wife, her eyes are glistening. "You okay, Momma?"

"I'll be fine. Seems surreal but in a fantastic way. Us, here like this, sending our daughter into the same kindergarten class we walked into forever ago? It's déjà vu but it's not."

I grab her hand. "What you call 'déjà vu,' I'm calling meant to be." We get back on our bikes and navigate our way out of the sandy lot, and I send her a wink.

"I like it, Cullen," she says with a glint in her eye. "Let's go see what else is meant to be."

 **(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)(+)**

* * *

 **A/N: A final enormous thank you to my amazing Team Cabana: Born, Cejsmom, Lay, and Momo. You girls are always there for me with plot pointers, red pens, and shoulders to cry or vent on. I appreciate it more than you know and love you all to pieces. You make this ride even more fun.**

 **To my N &S triplet sister, Koni . . . thank you for sharing your precious girl's beautiful name for this ending! Love you! **

**To my fantastic readers who held on tight through those rougher chapters and then had the patience of all the saints in heaven while it took me forever to write those last couple of chapters and finally, this epilogue. Your reviews have kept me going and your check-ins through PMs and on Facebook never fail to make me smile, giving me that boost I needed to get this bugger finished!**

 **I did post that second/final installment to Exes & Ho's; hopefully you got a chance to check it out. And now another one in the complete column. Thank you for joining me on this heart-tugging journey! You can let those friends of yours who only read completed stories know their day has arrived. Hooray!**

 **As for my next project, I have a few irons in the fire . . . not sure what will jump out at me first . . . but stay tuned!**

 **xoxo, Jen**


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